.' 


BY  THE  SAME  AUTHOR 

The  Johnson  Manor.     A  Tale  of  Olden  Time  in  New  York. 
l6mo,  cloth.  $1.25. 

"  It  is  a  clean,  healthy,  manly  story.  It  introduces  its  reader  into  good  com- 
pany. Its  pathos  is  genuine,  and  its  feeling  honest.  There  are  portions  of  it 
powerful  for  dramatic  effect  and  sustained  and  .vigorous  writing." — Church 
Journal. 

"  To  the  New  Yorker,  either  by  present  residence  or  pasi  association,  the 
volume  will  be  full  of  peculiar  interest,  while  the  general  reader  will  find  in  it 
one  of  the  most  truthful,  and  at  the  same  time  most  attractive  pictures  ever  pre- 
sented of  the  social  life,  the  tone  and  temper  of  the  early  days  of  the  American 
revolution."— Detroit  Free  Press. 

G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  New  York. 


SIBYL  SPENCER 


BY 

JAMES    KENT 

THE  AUTHOR  OF  THE  "JOHNSON  MANOR 


"  What's  the  plot  of  every  novel? 

What's  the  part  of  every  play  ? 
What  in  cottage  or  in  hovel, 

Can  drive  dull  care  away  ? 
What  gives  her  carriage  to  many  a  modern  trip, 

Making  even  marriage  sometimes  a  state  of  bliss, — 
O  c'est  1'amour  1'amour,"  etc.,  etc. 


NEW  YORK 

G.    P.    PUTNAM'S    SONS 

182  FIFTH  AVENUE 

1878. 


COPYRIGHT, 

1878, 
By  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 


CONTENTS 


I.  THE  PARSONAGE 

II.  YES,  OR  No 

III.  FAST  DAY 

IV.  SEAMAN'S  RIGHTS 
V.  SALLY'S  CHOICE 

VI.  EPH 

VII.  WAR  OR  PEACE? 

VIII.  A  PRISONER 

IX.  MRS.  QUINCEY    . 

X.  THE  APPEAL 

XI.  A  QUIET  RUBBER 

XII.  THE  QUID  NUNCS 

XIII.  FALLEN  FROM  GRACE 

XIV.  A  WORD  IN  SEASON 
XV.  A  LOVER'S  QUARREL 

XVI.  THE  HUDSON 

XVII.  THE  SPY       ... 

XVIII.  THE  CONFESSION  . 

XXIX.  WAVERING 

XX.  THE  REVENGE      . 

XXI.  LIFE  OR  DEATH 

XXII.  THE  REPRIEVE    . 

XXIII.  THE  CANNY  SCOTT      . 

XXIV.  A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE 
XXV.  UNDER  THE  ELMS 

XXVI.  THE  VISION 

XXVII.  LUNDY'S  LANE     . 
CONCLUSION 


PACK. 

5 
16 

28 
40 

5i 
62 

75 


109 
119 

132 

H3 
156 
169 
1 80 
191 

201 
211 
221 
230 
240 
250 
26l 
272 
282 
293 
303 


1703624 


SIBYL  SPENCER. 


CHAPTER  I. 

THE    PARSONAGE. 

"But  most  the  ancients  should  engage 

And  fire  my  heart  with  classic  rage, 
Models  of  style,  to  nature  true 

With  boldest  art  her  form  they  drew." 

ANONYMOUS. 

| HE  pious  bounty  of  the  founders  of  the  con- 
gregational church  at  D had  endowed  it 

with  some  fifty  acres  of  rich  meadow  land, 
and  had  built  for  their  pastor  a  large  square 
house.  This  house  stood  directly  on  the  principal  street, 
and  was  separated  from  the  church  by  the  graveyard. 
Neither  of  the  two  buildings  was  painted,  and  the  cypress 
shingles  with  which  their  sides  were  covered,  had  grown 
gray  with  age. 

The  mossy  head-stones  in  the  churchyard,  and  the 
gigantic  elms  which  overshadowed  them,  gave  an  air  of 
antiquity  uncommon  in  America.  The  ground  at  the  rear 
of  the  parsonage  sloped  gradually  towards  a  little  brook. 
Groups  of  trees  had  been  allowed  to  remain,  permitting 
vistas  of  the  distant  hills,  and  throwing  long  shadows, 
pleasant  to  the  eye,  on  this  hot,  sultry  June  morning. 


6  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

The  house  was  divided  into  four  square  rooms,  two  on 
each  side  of  the  hall. 

The  one  on  the  right,  as  you  entered,  was  the  pastor's 
study.  From  floor  to  ceiling,  in  every  available  nook  and 
cranny,  the  walls  were  clothed  with  books,  not  modern, 
gayly-bound  and  flauntingly-covered  volumes,  but  good, 
honest,  dusty,  moth-eaten  tomes.  Ponderous  books,  which 
must  have  descended  from  father  to  son  for  several  gener- 
ations. Books  on  controversial  divinity,  editions  of  the 
"  Fathers,"  classics,  rare  even  then,  and  now  almost  price- 
less. Bundles  of  pamphlets,  carefully  tied,  labelled  and 
docketed,  filled  many  of  the  shelves.  Possessions  which 
would  open  many  a  secret  of  political  and  social  life,  now 
closely  veiled  in  the  mists  of  antiquity. 

An  enormous  fireplace  filled  up  nearly  one  side  of  the 
room,  and  the  dogs  or  fire-irons  were  curiosities — they 
were  of  polished  iron,  and  reached  almost  to  the  top  of  the 
wooden  mantel.  This  was  of  wood,  carved  with  fruits 
and  flowers,  interspersed  with  flutes,  and  harps  and  other 
musical  instruments  in  admirable  confusion. 

The  furniture  was  scanty.  A  table,  littered  with  books 
of  reference  and  documents,  an  old  sofa  covered  with 
horse  hair,  a  few  high-backed,  uncomfortable  chairs,  and 
one  reading  chair,  the  arm  of  which  supported  a  desk,  was 
all  the  room  contained,  except  two  large  globes,  in  leather 
cases,  to  preserve  them  from  injury.  The  occupants  were 
an  elderly  gentleman  about  seventy  years  old  and  a  lady, 
several  years  his  junior,  evidently  husband  and  wife.  The 
man  was  in  the  dress  of  the  clergyman  of  the  period.  A 
long  straight-cut  black  coat,  black  silk  small-clothes,  shoes 
with  large  silver  buckles,  and  a  voluminous  white  cravat. 


THE    PARSONAGE.  7 

His  shirt  was  ruffled,  and  he  had  likewise  ruffles  at  his 
wrists.  He  was  above  the  middle  height,  slight  in  figure. 
His  hair  was  drawn  in  a  queue  and  powdered,  setting  off 
his  marked  and  expressive  features.  His  eyes  were  large 
and  dark,  singularly  mild  and  soft  in  their  expression, 
but  with  much  sly  fun  and  humor  in  them,  as  well  as  in 
the  lines  of  his  handsome  mouth.  His  teeth  were  beauti- 
fully even  and  white. 

There  was  intellectual  power  in  the  broad,  high  fore- 
head, in  the  prominent  nose  and  firm  set  jaws. 

Dr.  Spencer  had  sprung  from  a  race  of  clergymen. 
Father  and  grandfather  had  belonged  to  that  profession  : 
learned,  able  and  accomplished  men.  His  tastes  had  been 
scholastic  from  boyhood.  Entering  Yale  College,  he  had 
graduated  at  the  head  of  his  class  in  all  branches  of  study. 

For  many  years  he  had  remained  attached  to  that  in- 
stitution, first  in  the  capacity  of  tutor,  later  as  professor  of 
the  dead  languages.  On  the  death  of  his  father  he  had 

been  called  to  fill  the  pulpit  at  D .  He  was  the  third 

in  direct  line  who  had  occupied  that  position. 

On  his  acceptance  of  it,  the  church  gained  one  more 
ornament,  and  literature  suffered  an  irreparable  loss. 

At  this  period  a  heresy  had  broken  out  in  Massachu- 
setts which  threatened  to  spread  rapidly  over  Connecticut. 
To  meet  this  doctrine  of  "  the  Unity,"  the  Congregational 
Church  put  forth  her  mightiest  efforts. 

To  all  her  learning,  the  profundity  of  her  logic,  her 
moral  ethics,  and  the  revered  names  of  her  preachers  and 
writers,  the  strength  of  the  secular  arm  was  added.  The 
church  could  then  dispossess  her  preachers — not  only  forge 
but  launch  the  thunderbolt. 


8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

James  Spencer's  profound  learning,  joined  to  his  won- 
derful delivery,  placed  him  at  once  at  the  head  of  Synods 
and  Convocations.  Moral  and  intellectual  power  he  never 
hesitated  to  wield.  He  could  point  with  untrembling 
ringer  to  theological  punishments  for  heresy  and  unbelief. 
The  hell  to  which  he  condemned  was  the  hell  of  the 
future.  But  when  the  verdict  had  to  be  rendered  which 
would  turn  on  the  cold  charity  of  the  world  the  superan- 
nuated minister,  Dr.  Spencer  invariably  relented,  and  the 
bold  divine  who,  the  hour  before,  had  fulminated  all  the 
pains  and  penalties  of  spiritual  wrath,  now  voted,  argued 
and  entreated  that  the  victim  might  remain,  not  to  suffer, 
but  to  repent. 

There  then  existed  a  remnant  of  the  severe  Puritan, 
scattered  through  New  England,  and  the  subordinate 
offices  of  deacon  and  elder  were  generally  filled  from  this 
class.  These  would  glow  with  spiritual  pride  at  the  ability 
and  learning,  the  power  and  influence  which  their  pastor 
displayed,  and  which  was  the  theme  of  universal  admira- 
tion ;  but  it  tried  the  intensity  of  their  love  to  condone  his 
invariable  tendency  to  mercy  and  loving  kindness. 

Mrs.  Spencer  had  been  in  all  respects  a  suitable  match 
in  worldly  circumstances  and  social  position  ;  but  it  was 
a  match  which  had  caused  unfailing  wonder  to  all  his 
friends. 

The  lady  was  naturally  gentle  and  refined,  and  gifted 
with  a  fair  share  of  common  sense.  She  was  a  more  than 
ordinarily  shrewd  and  careful  manager,  and  an  adept  in 
making  both  ends  meet,  a  most  desirable  quality  in  the 
wife  of  a  country  clergyman.  She  was  a  good  house- 
keeper, a  first-rate  cook,  and  in  "  trade  "  was  the  equal  of 


THE    PARSONAGE.  9 

any  New  England  store-keeper.  All  these  were  qualities 
which  Mr.  Spencer's  friends  knew  or  cared  little  about. 
To  the  world  at  large  she  was  only  romantic  and  silly. 
Proud  and  attached  to  her  husband,  whose  intellectual 
powers  she  appreciated,  her  chief  aim  was  to  bewail  the 
retirement  in  which  he  was  kept,  and  in  so  doing,  she 
wounded  the  pride  without  arousing  the  sympathy  of  her 
hearers.  To  her  husband,  she  was  a  never-failing  source 
of  exquisite  mental  enjoyment.  He  would  sit  for  hours, 
smiling  at  her  platitudes,  and  enjoying  keenly  when  she 
was  the  victim  of  some  small  joke,  coming,  however,  gal- 
lantly to  the  rescue,  when  it  ceased  to  be  of  the  mildest 
kind.  He  had  a  due  appreciation  of  her  common  sense, 
took  her  advice  and  followed  it  in  all  their  business 
affairs.  They  had  each  inherited  a  small  property,  which, 
wisely  managed  and  joined  to  the  product  of  Dr.  Spencer's 
literary  efforts,  made  them  for  the  country  and  time  more 
than  comfortable. 

The  idol  of  their  hearts  was  their  daughter  Sibyl,  now 
a  young  woman  of  twenty-six.  This  idolatry  was  shown 
in  a  manner  characteristic  of  both.  By  the  father,  in  the 
mental  and  literary  training  which  he  bestowed  upon  her ; 
by  the  mother,  in  planning  and  scheming  some  unusually 
brilliant  marriage  for  her. 

Mrs.  Spencer  was  sitting  by  the  open  window,  enjoying 
the  soft  June  air,  perfumed  by  the  luxuriant  climbing  rose- 
bush which  shaded  it.  Her  attention  more  directed  to 
he.r  husband  than  to  the  household  work  which  had  fallen 
in  her  lap.  Dr.  Spencer,  seated  by  the  table,  was  turning 
over  with  absorbed  interest  the  leaves  of  a  new  book,  and 
answering,  evidently  at  random,  the  uninterrupted  string  of 


IO  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

questions  which  usually  constituted  the  bulk  of  his  wife's 
conversation. 

"  Jeems," — for  so  the  lady  always  pronounced  her  hus- 
band's Christian  name — "Jeems,  do  you  not  think  it  strange 
Mr.  Hamilton  should  remain  so  long  in  the  parlor  alone 
with  Sibyl  ?  How  long  do  you  think  he  has  been  there  ? " 

"  About  thirty  years,  I  should  say,"  muttered  rather 
than  spoke  the  Doctor,  catching  only  the  name,  and  refer- 
ring to  the  length  of  a  friendship,  not  the  duration  of  a 
morning  visit. 

"  Thirty  years  !  why  Jeems,  he  came  in  just  after  break- 
fast, don't  you  remember  ?  " 

"  Bless  my  soul,  my  dear,  what  are  you  talking  about  ? " 
answered  the  Doctor. 

"  Why,  Jeems,  I  was  only  saying  how  strange  I  thought 
it  that  Mr.  Hamilton  should  spend  two  hours  alone  in  the 
morning  with  our  Sibyl." 

"  Well,  my  dear,  what  of  that  ?  He  often  spends  the 
whole  morning  alone  with  me  in  this  room." 

"  Do  you  think  it  possible  he  may  be  going  to  ask  her, 
Doctor  ?  " 

"  Ask  her  ?  ask  her  what  ? "  replied  the  minister  now 
fully  awakened. 

"  If  she  will  be  his  wife,  of  course,"  said  the  lady. 
"  Just  think,  Jeems,  she  might  live  in  the  finest  house  in 
the  country,  and  go  every  year  to  Washington  as  a  senator's 
wife." 

"  Tush  and  fiddlesticks,"  answered  the  other,  "  he  is 
within  fifteen  years  of  being  my  age  ;  he  has  a  daughter  as 
old  as  our  child." 

"  Well,  what  of  that,  Jeems,  would  i't  not  be  every  thing 


THE    PARSONAGE.  II 

for  Sibyl  ?  Think  of  the  position  she  would  take,  not  only 
in  the  society  of  this  town,  but  in  that  of  the  entire  country." 

"  My  dear  wife,"  said  the  old  minister,  rising  and  lay- 
ing his  hand  affectionately  on  her  shoulder,  "  we  have 
wintered  and  summered  it  together  these  thirty  years, — 
we  commenced  life  with  the  same  hopes,  wishes  and  pleas- 
ures. Mated  in  heart  as  we  were  in  years,  we  have  grown 
old  together.  Now  do  not  let  your  foolish  match-making 
head  run  riot  with  you  in  planning  for  your  only  child  what 
will  never  happen.  If  Mr.  Hamilton  should  be  such  a 
fool  as  to  ask  our  Sibyl  to  be  his  wife,  I  for  one  shall 
humbly  pray  God  she  will  say  no." 

He  ceased  speaking,  a  step  was  heard  in  the  hall,  the 
door  was  thrown  open,  as  if  the  new-comer  was  sure  of 
his  welcome,  and  Edward  Mason  stood  in  the  room. 

"  My  boy,  my  own  boy !  "  exclaimed  the  Doctor,  seizing 
both  hands  only  to  relinquish  them  and  fold  him  in  his 
arms.  "  What  good  fortune  brought  you  here  ?  " 

The  old  man's  eyes  glistened  with  pleasure,  nor  was 
his  wife  backward  in  the  warmth  of  her  greeting.  Edward 
kissed  the  cheek  she  offered,  but  turned  to  grasp  again, 
and  again,  the  hands  the  Doctor  was  never  tired  of  ex- 
tending. 

"  Come,  come,  unbuckle  your  news  bag" — he  dragged, 
as  he  spoke,  a  low  chair  from  a  corner,  and  placed  it  by 
his  own. 

"  Here,  sit  in  your  old  seat.  Now,  what  news  do  you 
bring  ?  When  did  you  get  here  ?  How  are  you  succeed- 
ing? Have  you  forgotten  your  Greek?  Oh  !  what  a  baby 
I  am,  I  cannot  contain  myself  for  pleasure.  Mother, 
mother,  call  Sibyl." 


12  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  My  daughter  is  at  this  moment  engaged,"  said  the 
lady,  bridling  a  little  as  she  spoke.  "  She  is  receiving  the 
distinguished  Mr.  Hamilton." 

The  Doctor's  face  fell,  and  an  ominous  "  Pshaw  !  "  ex- 
pressed his  discontent ;  but  the  thought  was  soon  forgotten 
in  the  wild  delight  of  seeing  his  favorite  pupil,  for  such 
Edward  had  been,  and  he  pulled  a  worm-eaten  volume 
from  the  mass  of  books  on  the  table,  its  parchment  bind- 
ing proclaiming  it  a  classic,  and  said, 

"  I  need  not  ask  you,  my  dear  boy  ;  you  have  followed 
my  advice,  you  have  given  at  least  three  hours  daily  to  the 
'  Humanities,'  as  our  Scotch  cousins  call  the  classics  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,"  answered  Edward,  "  I  have  not  always  been 
able  to  give  quite  that  amount  of  time  to  study  every  day, 
but  I  always  allot  some  portion  to  either  Greek  or  Latin." 

"  Good  boy,  good  boy !  Let  us  improve  the  small 
portion  of  time  which  a  good  Providence  has  given  us  on 
earth,"  continued  the  Doctor,  taking  up  his  leg  and  nurs- 
ing it  tenderly,  a  happy  smile  beaming  on  his  face.  "  It 
was  only  this  morning,  before  the  heat  and  labor  of  the 
day,  that  my  thoughts  were  carried  back  to  you.  Yes, 
yes.  I  was  idly  turning  over  the  tenth  Satire  of  Juvenal, 
and  I  was  led  to  compare  the  metrical  version  of  the  two 
translations  of  Hodgson  and  Gifford,  and  I  uttered  aloud 
the  wish  to  have  you  once  more  here,  that  we  might  enjoy 
the  rich  intellectual  feast  in  scholarly  company." 

"  I  think,  sir," said  Edward,  "you  always  gave  the  palm 
to  Mr.  Gifford." 

"  I  did,  I  did,'"  said  the  Doctor,  "  although  there  are 
defects  in  both.  How,  indeed,  must  an  ear  well  instructed 
miss  the  mighty  roll  of  the  hexameters  !  And  then  the 


THE    PARSONAGE.  13 

barrenness  of  the  translation,  compared  with  the  vigor, 
the  simplicity,  one  might  almost  say,  the  savage  condensa- 
tion, of  the  original." 

"  You  never  were  fond  of  the  paraphrase  of  Doctor 
Johnson,"  said  Edward. 

"  In  a  certain  sense,  my  son,  in  a  certain  sense  I  was," 
answered  the  Doctor.  "  But  the  word  you  used  so  cor- 
rectly, 'paraphrase,'  expresses  fully  my  opinion;  'an  ex- 
planation in  many  words,'  as  the  Lexicographer  himself 
renders  the  syllable.  Now  the  great  power  of  the  Roman 
satirist  lies  in  his  condensation.  We  will  construe  any 
portion  taken  at  random.  Not  that  we  shall  be  able  in  this 
hasty  way  to  arrive  at  any  correct  estimate  of  the  poet. 
Leaving  for  our  future  study  to  enter  more  at  large." 

The  Doctor  had  gotten  thus  far  in  his  literary  disqui- 
sition, when  his  wife,  who  fretted  visibly  at  the  turn  the 
conversation  had  taken,  interrupted  him  by  saying, 

"  Jeems,  have  you  prepared  your  discourse  for  to-mor- 
row? You  know  much  will  be  expected  of  you,  and  as 
there  will  be  several  distinguished  strangers  present,  I 
hope  you  will  convince  them,  that  although  you  are  buried 
in  this  little  country  town,  you  do  not  always  idle  away 
your  time  in  this  manner." 

The  Doctor  turned  a  quizzical  glance  first  on  his  wife, 
and  then  on  his  young  friend,  who  was  well  used  to  these 
little  scenes. 

"  Few  men  in  my  profession,  Edward,  are  blessed  with 
such  a  helpmeet,  not  only  by  the  domestic  fireside,  but  in 
the  labors  of  the  pulpit.  But  she  is  right,  I  must  devote 
the  short  hour  which  remains,  before  the  mid-day  meal,  to 
revising  the  few  remarks  which  this  occasion  of  fasting 


14  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  prayer  presents.  I  wish  to  show  my  flock  the  dangers 
to  which  rash  resistance  to  even  bad  governments  may 
lead." 

"  My  long  absence,  dear  sir,  has  prevented  me  from 
acquiring  a  knowledge  of  the  temper  of  the  people.  Can 
it  be  possible  that  so  dangerous  a  crisis  is  at  hand  as  your 
words  would  imply  ? " 

"  Dear  boy,  the  very  principles  of  free  government  are 
at  stake.  The  '  Habeas  Corpus '  is  about  to  be  suspended. 
Military  law,  and  a  thousand  little  acts  heretofore  known 
only  to  the  rule  of  kings,  are  being  forced  upon  us.  Per- 
haps the  men  of  Connecticut  would  have  allowed  even 
these  to  pass  unnoticed,  had  it  not  been  for  this  attempt 
to  force  the  militia  into  the  ranks  of  the  regular  army." 

"  But  only  as  I  understand,  sir,  to  garrison  the  forts 
and  batteries  of  our  harbors." 

"  Vain  excuse.  Would  they  have  separated  the  sol- 
diers from  the  officers  to  accomplish  such  an  object  only  ? 
When  Israel  of  old  went  forth  to  war,  the  tribes  mustered 
under  the  command  of  their  Captains,  of  fifties,  of  hun- 
dreds and  of  thousands.  Have  not  our  fathers  set  up 
here,  in  the  wilderness,  a  purer  and  a  holier  Israel,  built 
on  the  new  covenant  ?  Did  not  even  I,  weak  vessel  of  clay 
that  I  am,  bear  my  part  in  the  company  of  that  goodly 
man  Captain  Hezekiah  Goodrich  ?  But  I  sin,  I  sin,  words 
of  wrath  and  hate  befit  not  the  sacred  garb  I  wear." 

The  old  man  rose  from  his  chair  and  walked  several 
times  up  and  down  the  room,  his  lips  moving  as  if  in 
silent  prayer.  He  stopped  at  length  in  front  of  Edward, 
and  said  in  a  voice  which  quivered  slightly, 

"  Edward  Mason,  thy  father  was  unto  me  even  as  Jon- 


THE    PARSONAGE.  15 

athan  was  unto  the  son  of  Jesse.  His  last  breath  bade 
me  make  thee  a  good  man.  In  religion,  in  politics,  in 
learning,  I  have  fully  endeavored  to  carry  out  the  charge. 
The  sages  who  built  the  constitution  suffered  many  things 
they  liked  not  to  enter  therein,  to  obtain  the  one  grand 
object  in  view,  '  a  united  nation.'  Though  we  be  lashed 
with  scorpions,  yet  will  I  speak  unto  them  words  of  mercy 
and  loving  kindness.  Go,  my  son.  It  disturbs  me.  Find 
Sibyl  and  play  together  as  of  old." 

"  Yet  stay,"  for  Edward  had  already  turned  towards  the 
door. 

"  Forget  not,  dear  boy,  to  treasure  up  the  waifs  and 
strays  (if  I  may  so  express  the  idea)  which  are  cast  up  on 
the  shores  of  the  great  ocean  of  human  thought.  It  is 
only  in  simple  pleasures  true  happiness  is  found.  The 
excitement  of  the  world,  its  gaudy  pomps  and  shows,  fade 
like  the  lilies  of  the  field.  Cultivate,  my  boy,  simple 
tastes,  love  of  nature,  love  for  your  fellow-man,  and  above 
all,  love  of  books.  Remember  what  our  favorite  author 
says: 

"  Inaudibly  the  foot  of  time  steals  swiftly  by, 
And  ere  we  dream  of  manhood  age  is  nigh." 


CHAPTER  II. 


YES,    OR   NO. 

"  Where  did  love  come  from  ? 

It  came  unsought,  unsent — 

Where  did  love  go  to  ? 

It  was  not  love  that  went," 
&  OLD  SONG. 

IBYL  SPENCER  was  in  her  twenty-sixth  year, 
hardly  above  the  middle  height,  slight  and 
graceful  in  figure.  She  had  inherited  her 
father's  deep  brown  eyes,  soft  and  full,  as  well 
as  his  flexible  mouth.  The  masses  of  rich  brown  hair, 
twisted  as  we  see  it  in  some  Greek  statues,  seemed  too 
heavy  for  the  slender  throat.  The  magic  which  she  ex- 
ercised was  that  of  manner.  No  matter  in  what  society 
or  with  what  class  of  people  she  mingled,  no  one  could 
resist  its  inexpressible  attractiveness.  To  this  charm,  so 
rare,  was  added  an  education  such  as  few  women  possess. 
Her  father,  urged  by  his  passion  for  teaching  and  love  of 
study,  had  devoted  himself  to  the  instruction  of  his  only 
child.  Naturally  quick,  and  with  a  retentive  memory,  she 
became  not  only  mistress  of  the  literature  of  several  mod- 
ern languages,  but  a  thorough  classical  scholar  as  well. 

As  she  stood  in  the  old-fashioned  drawing-room,  on 
that  bright  summer  morning,  her  pale  intellectual  face, 
with  only  a  tinge  of  color  in  the  cheeks,  lit  up  by  the  soul 

16 


YES,    OR   NO.  17 

which  shone  in  her  eyes,  busying  herself  in  arranging  in  a 
quaint  old  flower-stand  the  wealth  of  June's  roses,  she 
formed  an  object  of  most  intense  interest  to  a  man  just 
passing  beyond  the  prime  of  life. 

Mr.  Arthur  Hamilton  was  considered  not  only  in  his 
native  State,  but  throughout  the  whole  country,  as  a  re- 
markable man.  His  family  was  one  of  the  very  best,  his 
fortune  perhaps  the  largest,  his  abilities  of  the  highest 
order  among  his  contemporaries.  All  these  combined  to 
make  him  the  most  prominent  representative  man  in  the 
State  of  Connecticut.  He  had  been  for  many  years  a  mem- 
ber of  Congress.  .  Private  affairs  had  induced  him  to  re- 
tire from  the  Senate,  and  the  loss  of  no  one  member  could 
have  caused  more  regret  to  the  Federal  party,  of  which 
through  life  he  had  been  a  consistent  and  ardent  adherent. 
He  still  was  a  very  handsome  man,  his  eyes  were  bright, 
his  hair  thick  and  curly,  and  only  sprinkled  with  gray,  and 
his  complexion  fresh  and  vigorous.  In  figure  he  was  tall 
and  powerful,  inclining  rather  to  what  might  be  termed 
portly.  He  dressed  well,  and  his  air,  manners,  and  ap- 
pearance were  always  those  of  a  gentleman.  Although  he 
was  past  fifty,  Mrs.  Spencer  might  be  pardoned  if  she  clung 
to  the  hope  of  seeing  her  adored  Sibyl  the  lady  magnate  of 
the  State. 

It  was  the  determination  of  bringing  the  half-concealed 
courtship  of  years  to  a  conclusion  that  had  induced  Mr. 
Hamilton  to  make  some  rare  flowers  his  excuse  for  this 
morning's  visit.  Let  no  man,  no  matter  what  may  be  his 
age,  station  or  abilities,  flatter  himself  he  can  conceal  his 
feelings  from  the  quick  eye  of  a  woman.  Nor,  if  she  does 
not  wish  the  offer,  will  any  mistake  of  hers  pave  the  way, 

2 


j8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

or  make  this  most  terrible  ordeal  one  whit  the  more  easy. 
The  opportunity  may  be  just  what  he  wishes.  They 
are  alone,  safe  from  intrusion  ;  he  has  shown  the  most 
adroit  skill  in  preparing  for  the  fatal  word ;  but  that  word, 
and  the  woman  knows  as  well  as  he  does  when  he  is  about 
to  utter  it,  must  be  spoken  with  pain  and  suffering. 

Mr.  Hamilton  had  never  told  Sibyl  that  he  loved  her. 
He  was  an  old  and  attached  friend  of  her  father's.  He 
had  held  her  on  his  knee  a  hundred  times,  had  made  her 
presents  ten  times  as  costly  as  the  flowers  he  now  brought, 
but  the  instant  his  hand  touched  the  garden  gate,  Sibyl's 
quick  woman's  instinct  told  her  the  dreaded  moment  had 
come.  She  might  postpone  it  for  a  time,  but  that  morn- 
ing must  decide  whether  wealth,  high  position,  a  place  in 
the  gay  world,  could  buy  a  heart  which  belonged  to  an- 
other, or  should  she  try  and  turn  an  elderly  but  most 
devoted  lover,  into  a  constant  friend. 

Knowing  these  things  so  well,  can  we  wonder  if  Sibyl 
postponed,  by  a  hundred  little  winning  ways,  the  disagree- 
able moment  when  she  must  say  no  !  when  that  no  must 
mortify  the  feelings  and  wound  the  heart  of  a  man  she  had 
been  accustomed  to  admire,  to  respect,  and  to  love  from 
childhood.  To  love,  did  I  say  ?  Yes,  but  not  with  the  love 
for  which  he  asked.  Yet  why  should  not  her  affections 
be  won  in  time  by  one  who,  although  no  word  of  love  had 
ever  passed  his  lips,  she  knew  worshipped  the  very  ground 
on  which  she  trod.  It  was  not  the  mere  difference  in  age, 
for  Sibyl  was  old  for  her  years. 

The  half-seclusion  in  which  she  had  lived,  the  constant 
companionship  of  her  father,  the  very  course  of  education 
which  had  been  pursued,  had  tended  to  develop  into 


YES,    OR   NO.  ig 

maturity  a  mind  appreciative  and  high  strung,  and,  to  a 
certain  extent,  poetic  in  its  nature.  Possessed  of  all  the  re- 
quirements, she  did  not  covet  the  superabundance  of  wealth. 

Mr.  Hamilton  entered  into  the  contest  heavily  weight- 
ed. Who  was  his  rival  ? 

Edward  Mason  was  the  son  of  the  close,  intimate  col- 
lege friend  of  Dr.  Spencer.  They  had  shared  the  same 
rooms,  had  the  same  tastes,  and  were  unto  one  another  a.3 
brothers. 

Edward  was  his  youngest  child.  It  seemed  to  the 
father  as  if  the  others  were  only  born  to  die.  The  broken- 
hearted parent  saw  one  by  one,  son  and  daughter,  de- 
scend into  the  grave,  followed  by  their  mother,  until  Ed- 
ward was  left,  the  last  of  his  family.  On  his  death-bed 
he  confided  him  to  the  care  of  his  friend,  his  only  charge 
being — "Make  him,  if  you  can,  a  man  like  yourself." 

Dr.  Spencer  gladly  assumed  the  duty,  and  Edward  was 
treated  and  loved  as  his  own  son.  He  became  Sibyl's 
companion.  She  shared  his  studies,  his  sports,  and  his 
short-lived  sorrows. 

Edward's  singular  ability  made  him  acquire  learning 
with  a  rapidity  which  seemed  like  inspiration.  After  pass- 
ing through  Yale  College,  taking  every  honor,  at  once  the 
admiration  and  envy  of  his  classmates,  he  entered  a  law 
office  in  New  York — one  of  those  cadets  of  fortune  New 
England  annually  sends  out,  the  most  valuable  of  her  ex- 
ports. 

Edward  had  just  enough  money  to  keep  him  from  star- 
vation and  to  prompt  him  to  exertion.  In  his  manner 
there  was  a  self-assurance  which  in  some  degree  militated 
against  his  ever  becoming  a  general  favorite.  His  was, 


2O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

however,  a  generous,  high-toned  character,  keenly  alive  to 
any  injustice  and  prone  to  take  the  opposition  on  any  new 
subject  before  he  understood  it,  argumentative,  and  if  any 
thing,  a  little  dogmatical. 

Sibyl  saw  no  fault  in  him.  To  her  he  was  the  adored 
playmate  of  her  childhood,  the  chosen  companion  of  her 
more  mature  years. ' 

He  spent  all  his  vacations  at  the  old  house,  and  as  he 
grew  in  years  so  grew  his  love  for  her  society.  It  never 
entered- Edward's  imagination  to  picture  Sibyl  as  belong- 
ing to  another.  When  he  had  made  a  home,  naturally  she 
would  fill  it.  To  Sibyl  he  had  as  yet  never  whispered  love. 
Was  she  content  ?  The  sequel  will  show. 

Mr.  Hamilton  had  seen  them  grow  up  together,  but 
the  long  separation,  the  calm  concentrated  nature  of  the 
girl,  had  checked  the  growing  doubt  as  to  his  own  success, 
and  if  it  did  not  stifle  the  bitter,  jealous  pain,  still  it  did 
not  quench  the  faint  hope  he  nourished. 

No  man,  no  matter  what  his  age,  ever  thinks  he  has 
ceased  to  be  attractive  to  a  woman.  He  may  say  so,  he 
may  disclaim  all  idea  of  conquests  in  the  future,  but  in  his 
inmost  heart,  he  still  nourishes  the  belief  he  can  succeed. 

Mr.  Hamilton  hesitated,  faltered  ;  he  commenced  the 
topic  which  was  engrossing  his  thoughts,  he  stopped,  in 
short,  he  was  deeply,  truly  in  love. 

It  was  provoking  to  be  met  at  the  outset  by  the  calm 
composed  manner  of  his  companion.  She  did  not  blush, 
she  did  not  become  hysterical,  on  the  contrary,  her  man- 
ner was  more  gentle  and  affectionate  than  ever.  She 
shunned  the  topic,  it  was  but  natural,  and  he  was  too  well 
acquainted  with  woman's  ways  not  to  know  that  this  argued 
ill  for  his  suit. 


YES,    OR    NO.  21 

"  My  dear  Sibyl,"  he  said  at  last,  "  I  shall  not  pretend 
at  my  age  to  make  protestations  which  would  be  neither 
dignified  nor  true.  I  do  not  say  you  are  the  only  woman 
I  have  ever  loved,  but  I  do  say,  you  are  the  only  woman 
who,  for  years,  has  had  any  hold  upon  my  heart.  I  do  not 
ask  you,  if  you  love  me  as  I  do  you,  that  the  difference 
in  our  years  forbids,  but  I  do  ask,  can  you,  will  you,  do 
you  care  sufficiently  for  me  to  be  my  wife  ? " 

It  is  always  the  same — we  con  over  the  subject,  we 
select  the  best  chosen  words  to  clothe  the  most  appropri- 
ate ideas,  and  invariably  when  the  moment  comes,  it  is, 
can  you  ?  will  you  ?  do  you  ? 

They  had  entered  the  house  as  Mr.  Hamilton  uttered 
these  words.  Sibyl  turned  into  the  parlor,  and  stood  rest- 
ing her  burden  of  flowers  on  the  table.  All  passion  had 
left  his  face,  the  few  moment's  pause  had  restored  the 
calm  air  and  manner  of  the  man  of  the  world. 

Sibyl  looked  at  him,  and  the  thought  crossed  her  mind, 
he  looked  so  noble  in  air  and  bearing — how  well  some 
other  woman  could  love  him.  She  paused  so  long,  before 
her  reply,  that  he  continued  : 

"  Should  you  wish  time  for  reflection  or  to  consult  your 
parents,  do  not  consider  me.  My  feelings  for  you  will 
never  change,  and  time  will  be,  I  fear,  my  only  advocate." 
He  uttered  the  last  few  words  with  perhaps  a  tinge  of 
bitterness. 

"  I  need  no  time,"  said  Sibyl,  her  voice  sweet  and  lowj 
"  my  only  delay  in  answering  came  from  my  unwillingness 
to  pain  one  whom  I  respect  and  love  as  much  as  I  do 
you." 

"  Then  Sibyl,  why  pain  me  ?     I  am  not  as  romantic  as 


22  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

I  was  at  twenty.     I  only  ask  for  what  you  say  you  can 
give,  respect,  and  a  certain  amount  of  love." 

"  I  do  both  respect  and  love  you,"  the  girl  said;  "  but 
it  is  not  with  the  love  you  crave.  My  father  is  growing  an 
old  man." 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  do  not  strive  to 
find  excuses,  your  true,  pure  nature  would  not  willingly 
permit  you  to  invent."  As  he  was  speaking,  over  neck 
and  face  rushed  the  warm  blood,  the  heart  gave  one  great 
throb,  and  then  appeared  to  stand  still,  and  Sibyl,  pale  and 
trembling,  sank  into  a  chair. 

Mr.  Hamilton,  seriously  alarmed,  rushed  forward. 
"  My  child,  nothing  I  have  said  or  done — " 

Sibyl  had  recovered  herself.  She  had  heard  what  he 
had  not,  a  quick,  bold  step,  one  word  uttered  by  a  voice. 

"  It  is  nothing,  only  a  momentary  pain,"  she  said  with 
her  gentle  smile.  "  With  you,  Mr.  Hamilton,  until  this 
hour,  there  has  never  been  associated  any  thing  but  kind- 
ness and  affection.  But  do  not  deceive  yourself,"  for  he 
had  started  forward  as  if  to  interrupt  her.  "  I  can  never 
be  your  wife." 

He  turned  and  walked  slowly  towards  the  window,  and 
stood  there  for  some  minutes  looking  at  the  great  elms 
which  shadowed  the  street.  He  felt  as  if  their  shadows 
were  cast  upon  his  own  heart. 

Sibyl  sat  still  at  the  far  end  of  the  room.  Her  body 
quivering  in  every  fibre,  her  fingers  nervously  twining 
themselves  together.  What  had  happened  ?  what  had 
brought  him  home  so  unexpectedly  ?  She  always  thought 
of  it  as  his  home.  If  he  should  come  in  and  find  them 
together,  what  would  he  think  ?  Should  her  companion's 


YES,    OR   NO.  23 

composure  betray  nothing,  she  knew  her  own  face,  alter- 
nately ghastly  pale  and  then  burning  red,  would  only  too 
truly  tell  the  tale.  Would  he  care  ?  How  little  she  knew 
man's  nature !  This  love  of  Edward's  might  go  on  for 
years,  but  let  another  offer  to  take  for  himself  this  neg- 
lected pearl,  oh !  how  he  would  prize  it. 

This  silence  might  have  lasted  some  minutes,  neither 
was  aware  of  the  lapse  of  time,  when  Mr.  Hamilton  turned, 
and  in  a  voice,  the  composed  sadness  of  which  was  touch- 
ing, asjced, 

"  Is  there  no  hope  ?  " 

"  None,"  said  Sibyl  gently,  but  firmly. 

"  I  do  not  wish  to  pain  you,"  he  said,  "  but  may  I  ask 
one  question?"  "Is  there,"  he  stopped,  the  girl  flushed  to 
grow  pale  immediately,  "  I  have  no  right  to  ask  it,  I  know." 

She  broke  in  impetuously. 

"  You  have  every  right  to  ask  any  question  which  true 
friendship  or  kindness  may  dictate.  I  will  not  pretend  to 
ignore  your  meaning.  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  love  another.  Be 
generous,  be  my  friend,  my  true  friend,  you  can  never  be 
any  thing  more,"  and  she  extended  her  hand  as  she  spoke. 

There  was  a  great  big  nobleness  of  heart  in  the  man, 
which  in  a  peasant  would  have  won  our  respect.  As  it 
was  here,  joined  to  manners  as  courtly  as  was  the  fashion 
of  the  day,  Sibyl  would  have  been  more  than  human,  had 
not  the  knowledge  of  what  she  had  cast  away  flashed  for 
one  second  across  her  mind. 

He  took  her  extended  hand  in  both  of  his. 

"  Let  the  conversation  of  this  morning  pass  from  your 
memory,  and  let  me  be  only  the  familiar  friend  of  a  girl 
young  enough  to  be  my  daughter." 


24  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

Sibyl  laid  her  other  hand  on  his. 

"  Oh  !  Mr.  Hamilton,  you  are  so  noble,  so  kind,  you 
will—" 

He  interrupted  her,  "  May  God  bless  you  !  There  is 
not  on  this  earth  the  thing  Arthur  Hamilton  can  do,  to 
make  either  you  or  the  man  you  love  happy,  which  shall 
willingly  be  left  undone." 

He  kissed  the  hand  he  still  held  and  she  was  alone. 
She  turned  towards  the  window,  and  stood  looking  dream- 
ily, sadly  into  the  green  shade.  Hers  was  a  loving  nature. 
She  delighted  in  giving  pleasure,  and  drank  in  great 
draughts  to  herself  in  the  happiness  of  others.  Now,  for 
almost  the  first  time  in  her  still  short  life,  she  had  made 
her  old,  her  best  friend  suffer.  She  knew  the  calm  con- 
centrated nature  of  the  man  she  had  refused.  There  was 
no  acting,  no  child's  play  in  the  deep  voice,  in  the  slight 
quiver  of  the  lips.  The  wound  she  had  inflicted  was  life- 
long. As  she  stood  thus,  half  dreaming,  half  reproaching 
herself  for  what  was  after  all  not  her  fault,  two  hands  were 
placed  over  her  eyes,  and  she  was  dragged  gently  into  the 
middle  of  the  room.  A  merry  laugh  rang  in  her  ears. 

It  needed  not  the  "  Sibyl,  Sibyl !  I've  caught  you," 
to  bring  back  the  happy  days  of  yore. 

She  turned,  only  to  be  kissed  warmly  on  each  cheek. 

"  How  well  you  look,  prettier  than  ever,  I  declare.  I 
need  only  go  away  and  you  grow  younger  and  prettier  each 
day." 

"  Dear  Edward,  how  glad  I  am  to  see  you.  I  heard 
your  step  in  the  hall." 

"  You  heard  me,  and  you  never  came  out  to  welcome 
me,  Oh!  Sibyl." 


YES,    OR   NO.  25 

"  How  could  I,  dear,  Mr.  Hamilton  was  here  with 
me." 

"  Well,  what  if  he  were  ?  It  is  not  the  first  time  he 
has  spent  a  morning  in  the  house.  Nor  have  you  always 
been  so  particular.  What  blushing !  Why,  Sibyl,  was  the 
old  man  making  love  ?  " 

"What  nonsense  you  talk,"  said  the  conscious  girl. 
"  How  are  you  ?  What  brought  you  home  ?  I  have  a 
hundred  questions  to  ask." 

"  So  have  I,"  answered  Edward,  "  and  one  which 
claims  the  pre-eminence.  What  was  Mr.  Hamilton  talk- 
ing to  you  about  ?"  His  face  grew  stern,  and  his  voice 
altered  in  its  expression.  Sibyl  knew  not  why,  but  a  slight 
feeling  of  awe  passed  over  her.  He  was  her  master. 

She  tried  to  laugh  it  off,  her  cheeks  all  crimson,  and 
in  her  sweet  playful  way  she  covered  his  mouth  with  her 
little  hand.  No  woman,  no  true  woman,  ever  tells  of  her 
lovers.  She  buries  them  in  the  deep  of  her  heart. 

"  No,"  he  said,  kissing  the  hand  until  she  took  it 
away. 

"That  won't  do.  I  will  know.  What  did  he  say? 
What !  no  answer.  Did  he  ask  you  to  be  his  wife  ?  Sibyl 
tell  me,  is  it  not  so  ? " 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  blushing  girl,  turning  away,  "  you 
are  mistaken." 

He  caught  her,  perhaps  not  altogether  reluctant,  and 
placing  both  arms  round  her  waist,  he  looked  her  straight 
in  the  face. 

"  You  asked  me  what  brought  me  home.  Shall  I  tell 
you  ?  Do  not  struggle  ;  if  I  stop  now,  I  shall  be  dumb  for- 
ever. I  passed  one  night  in  New  York — such  a  night. 


26  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

You  came  before  me  in  my  dreams.  I  saw  you ;  you 
beckoned  to  me, — and  then  a  voice  whispered  in  my  ear — 
I  hear  it  even  now, — '  Stay  away,  and  she  is  lost  to  you  for- 
ever ! '  Shall  I  go  on  ?  " 

Sibyl  had  ceased  to  struggle ;  indeed  the  slight  effort 
she  made  to  escape  from  his  grasp  hardly  deserved  the 
name  of  struggling.  Her  eyes  were  cast  upon  the  ground, 
her  cheeks  burned  like  fire.  Her  silence  gave  consent. 
He  continued, — 

"  Have  I  come  too  late  ?  Has  the  love  which  has 
grown  from  childhood  gone  forever?  Must  I  hope  no 
longer,  Sibyl,  that  you  will  be  mine  ? " 

No  answer  came.  The  thought  that  he  had  lost  her 
made  him  tremble.  His  words  choked  him.  He  never 
knew  until  this  moment  how  dearly,  how  madly  he  loved 
her. 

"  Answer  me  ;  for  God's  sake,  answer  me  !  " 

"What  do  you  want  me  to  say? "  said  Sibyl. 

"  Tell  me  that  you  love  me." 

"  You  know  I  do." 

The  answer  came  so  tremulously,  it  hardly  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  room. 

"  Then  say  so ;  say  so  at  once.  Will  you  be  my 
wife  ? " 

The  soft  eyes  looked  up  into  his,  guileless  and  true. 
The  slight  form  drew  a  trifle  closer,  and  the  sweet  voice, 
this  time  clear  as  a  marriage  bell, 

"  I  will." 

"  At  this  moment  the  half-closed  door  was  pushed  open, 
and  the  old  Doctor,  his  spectacles  on  his  nose,  came  in. 
He  had  a  book  in  his  hand,  and  was  so  absorbed,  that  he 


YES,    OR   NO.  27 

was  guided  more  by  instinct  than  by  his  senses.  He  had 
heard  the  faint  sound  of  voices,  and  had  followed  it, 
talking  as  he  came,  and  he  had  reached  the  middle  of  the 
room  before  he  took  in  the  scene. 

"  Dear  boy,  I  intended  calling  your  attention  to  a 
plagiarism  in  Juvenal's  fifth  Satire,  taken  from  one  of 
'  Ovid's  Metamorphoses,'  or  I  am  wrong  in  my  construc- 
tion." 

He  had  gotten  so  far  in  his  sentence  when  he  stopped, 
pushed  his  spectacles  up  on  his  forehead,  and  looked  first 
at  one  then  at  the  other. 

Sibyl  hid  her  face  on  Edward's  shoulder,  who,  painfully 
embarrassed,  still  kept  his  arm  around  her  waist.  The  old 
man's  eyes  twinkled,  his  face  beamed  with  pleasure. 

"  I  felt  I  must  be  right,"  he  said.  The  metamorphose 
has  been  construed  in  accordance  with  my  wishes." 

He  turned,  and  as  he  went  out  he  quietly  closed  the 
door. 


CHAPTER  III. 

FAST   DAY. 

"  To  this  our  western  wilderness 
A  glorious  boon  they  bring, 
A  church  without  a  bishop, 
A  state  without  a  king." 

|N  no  country  of  the  Protestant  world  has  the 
"  Church  on  earth  "  exercised  such  unbounded 
influence  as  in  Connecticut  during  her  early 
colonial  days.  Up  to  a  very  late  period,  the 
rights  of  voting,  and  all  the  essential  privileges  of  freemen 
belonged  only  to  church  members.  And  as  the  right  of 
admission  to  church  membership  lay  absolutely  in  the 
hands  of  the  ministers,  this  body  of  men  virtually  controlled 
the  politics  of  the  State. 

At  the  period  during  which  the  events  narrated  in  this 
story  occurred,  many  changes  had  taken  place.  Radical- 
ism, which  had  broken  down  many  of  the  existing  barriers 
in  Europe,  had  not  been  without  its  effect  even  in  Connec- 
ticut. Yet  the  older  and  more  substantial  citizens  clung 
tenaciously  to  the  church,  as  in  a  great  measure  the  ex- 
ponent of  political  as  well  as  religious  truths. 

Dr.  Spencer's  name  was  a  tower  of  strength.  His 
wonderful  learning,  his  eloquence,  and,  above  all,  the 
sweetness  and  gentleness  of  his  nature,  made  the  side 


FAST    DAY.  29 

which  he  espoused  almost  certain  of  success.  He  was 
known  to  be  an  ardent  Federalist ; — in  accord  politically 
with  the  Governor  and  Council  in  the  stand  which  they  had 
taken  against  what  they  considered  the  usurpations  of  the 
general  government. 

Would  he,  on  this  day,  which  the  State  government  had 
set  apart  for  imploring  Divine  aid  and  assistance,  throw 
his  influence  in  support  of  those  who  undoubtedly  were 
justly  resisting  a  technical  invasion  of  their  rights,  or 
would  he  pour  the  oil  of  peace  on  the  troubled  waters  of 
political  strife. 

These  were  questions  so  pregnant,  that  it  was  not  to  be. 

wondered  at  if  the  little  church  of  D should  be  the 

point  to  which  the  leaders  on  both  sides  turned  with  anx- 
ious interest. 

It  was  one  of  those  beautiful  June  mornings  so  peculiar 
to  America.  The  hazy  light  hung  softly  over  the  sloping 
meadows,  and  the  long  shadows  lay  unbroken  on  the  hill- 
sides. From  far  and  near  crowds  came  pouring  in — on 
horseback,  in  carts  and  wagons  of  every  description — 
sober,  orderly,  determined  men.  Had  but  a  modern 
"  Cromwell "  appeared,  here  was  the  material  out  of  which 
the  religious,  enthusiastic  "  Ironsides  "  could  be  formed. 

Edward  Mason  walked  through  the  principal  street 
some  little  time  before  the  hour  of  service.  His  absence 
from  his  native  State  had  not  been  sufficiently  prolonged 
to  weaken  the  regards  of  the  younger  members  of  the 
community,  among  whom  he  had  always  been  a  recognized 
leader.  Quite  a  group  of  these  had  gathered  around  him, 
anxious  to  learn  what  his  feelings  were  on  the  absorbing 
questions  of  the  day,  when  his  arm  was  touched,  and  turn- 
ing he  saw  Mr.  Hamilton. 


30  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

The  elder  man  drew  him  from  the  crowd,  and  after  an 
affectionate  greeting,  said 

"  I  was  a  boy  of  about  fifteen,  Edward,  when  in  this 
very  square  I  heard  the  news  of  '  Lexington.'  It  was  fol- 
lowed by  seven  years  of  bloody  war.  On  my  honor,  I  do 
not  think  this  present  occasion  less  momentous." 

"  Why,  Mr.  Hamilton,  how  you  astonish  me  ;  we  were 
then  colonies.  We  are  now  one  nation.  We  were  then 
fighting  for  our  liberties  :  now  we  are  called  upon  to  fight 
a  foreign  foe." 

"  Not  for  the  wealth  of  '  Ind,'  Edward,  would  I  openly 
avow  that  I  consider  our  liberties  more  in  danger  at  this 
moment  than  they  were  then.  Yes  " — he  continued,  reply- 
ing to  the  astonished  look  on  the  young  man's  face — "yes, 
civil  war,  division,  anarchy  hang  trembling  in  the  balance. 
Every  civil  right  dear  to  the  New  Englander  has  been  in- 
vaded. The  people  are  in  a  state  of  absolute  madness." 

"Are  you  not  unconsciously  magnifying  the  danger, 
Mr.  Hamilton  ? " 

"  My  dear  boy,  look  around  you.  Where  do  these  men 
spring  from  !  Every  man  you  see  is  an  Anglo-Saxon — 
descendants  of  the  very  men  who  sent  Charles  I.  to  the 
scaffold — of  the  men  who  defied  the  far  greater  power  of 
the  Church  of  Rome.  To  them  civil  liberty  is  identified 
with  the  '  Bill  of  Rights  '  and  the  '  Habeas  Corpus.'  Are  not 
our  rulers  in  Washington  at  this  very  moment  proposing  to 
take  from  them  privileges  dearer  by  far  than  their  heart's 
blood?" 

"  Then  I  am  to  understand,  Mr.  Hamilton,  that  you 
sympathize  with  the  action  of  the  Executive,  both  in  Mas- 
sachusetts and  Connecticut,  in  resisting  the  claims  of  the 
general  government  ? " 


FAST    DAY.  31 

"  Sympathize  with  them,  Edward,  yes  ;  support  them, 
no." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  I  do  not  understand  you — you 
speak  in  enigmas." 

"  From  my  first  entry  into  public  life  I  taught  myself 
to  look  upon  this  land  as  an  undivided  country — its  in- 
habitants as  one  homogeneous  whole.  And  if  (which  God 
forbid  !)  I  were  this  day  obliged  to  choose  between  the  sur- 
render of  our  liberties  and  the  division  of  our  country,  I 
should  choose  the  former." 

"Do  you  attach  much  importance  to  what  will  take 
place  to-day  ?  Will  the  sermons  or  addresses  carry  weight 
in  men's  minds  ?  " 

"  Weight  ?  Young  man,  you  do  not  know  our  people. 
To  the  mass  of  the  farming  class  throughout  New  Eng- 
land, the  words  of  James  Spencer,  and  men  like  him,  are 
held  in  as  much  reverence  as  by  the  Israel  of  old  was  the 
voice  of  Moses  speaking  from  Horeb.  If,  as  I  fondly 
hope  and  believe,  they  are  to  be  words  of  peace  and  good 
will,  we  may  be  saved.  But  should  they  preach  resistance, 
not  all  the  statecraft  in  the  world  can  save  us  from  a  dis- 
solution of  the  '  Union,'  and  a  probable  alliance  with  the 
British  government." 

"  One  more  question  before  you  enter  the  church,"  for 
Mr.  Hamilton  had  turned  as  if  to  leave  him.  "  How  do 
the  Federal  leaders  feel  in  this  crisis  ?  " 

"  Generally  as  I  do.  Edward  Mason,  that  starry  flag 
shall  not  go  down.  Our  forefathers  made  it,  and  we  will 
sustain  it.  If  you  wish  to  judge  for  yourself,  watch  well 
the  countenances  of  those  assembled  here  to-day.  As  our 
worthy  church-elders  would  express  it,  '  Watch  as  well  as 
pray.'  " 


32  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

While  talking  they,  had  been  walking  slowly  towards 
the  church,  when  Mr.  Hamilton  stopped,  and  taking  his 
young  companion's  hand  kindly  in  his  own,  he  said : 

"  I  knew  and  respected  your  father,  my  young  friend, 
as  did  all  men.  The  position  he  held  in  this  community 
has  fallen  as  a  birthright  upon  you.  It  requires  no  great 

acuteness  to  see  that  the  youth  of  D look  upon  you  as 

their  leader.  What  your  intentions  are,  I  know  not.  But 
of  this  I  am  sure,  knowing  the  blood  from  which  you 
spring — '  A  gentleman  never  changes  his  politics  or  his 
religion.'  Before  you  take  any  overt  step  consult  me." 

Edward  was  a  little  surprised  at  the  solemnity  of  the 
tone,  and  as  he  paused  a  moment,  Mr.  Hamilton  came 
back  to  him, — 

"  Edward,  a  merchant  often  puts  the  profits  of  a  life  of 
toil  on  the  hazard  of  a  single  venture.  A  mere  man  of 
the  world,  more  often  than  that  world  supposes,  does  the 
same  with  the  greater  riches  of  the  heart.  Even  should 
utter  bankruptcy  follow,  and  he  be  a  true  man,  he  honors 
his  successful  rival."  A  sad  smile  passed  over  his  face  as 
he  continued — "  You  have  won  a  prize.  In  season  and 
out  of  season,  and  at  all  times,  count  upon  the  friendship 
of  Arthur  Hamilton." 

Edward  made  his  way  through  the  crowded  entrance 
to  the  seats  reserved  for  Dr.  Spencer's  family,  accompa- 
nied by  his  friend.  He  found  Mrs.  Spencer  already  there 
with  the  house-servants,  each  one  of  whom  felt  himself  on 
an  equality  with  his  employers  in  the  House  of  God. 

The  pew  was  on  the  side  of  the  church  and  faced  the 
congregation,  so  that  Edward,  without  transgressing  the 
Puritan  rules  of  conduct,  was  enabled  to  study  the  faces 


FAST    DAY.  33 

of  the  assemblage,  and  satisfy  himself  of  the  accuracy  of 
Mr.  Hamilton's  statements.  It  required  but  a  rapid  glance 
to  verify  the  truth  of  his  friend's  remarks.  Among  the 
younger  members  some  hesitation  might  be  observed,  and 
as  several  avowed  supporters  of  the  national  government 
were  numbered  among  Dr.  Spencer's  flock,  there  seemed 
an  inclination  on  the  part  of  these  young  men  to  rally 
round  them  as  leaders.  By  far  the  larger  portion,  how- 
ever, both  old  and  young,  showed  in  manner  and  bearing 
that  stern,  self-reliant  air  which  would  have  been  looked 
for  in  "  Praise  God  Barebones'  "  parliament  of  old.  A 
few  of  the  elders  carried  their  stoical  composure  so  far, 
indeed,  as  resolutely  to  refrain  from  even  glancing  at  the 
new-comers. 

Edward's  engagement  to  the  daughter  of  their  pastor 
had  already  been  reported  in  the  little  community,  and 
had  caused  a  certain  amount  of  curiosity  to  see  how  they 
would  act  under  this  trying  ordeal.  At  this  moment  Dr. 
Spencer,  in  the  gown  of  an  "  M.  A.,"  his  thin  gray  hair 
covered  with  a  skull  cap,  his  long  bands  of  snowy  white 
being  the  only  relief  to  the  otherwise  perfect  blackness  of 
his  garb,  entered,  and  mounted  the  winding  stairs  which 
led  to  the  pulpit.  He  stood  for  a  moment  and  gazed  on 
the  congregation,  who  sat  motionless,  then  drew  his  watch 
from  his  fob,  and  after  holding  it  to  his  ear,  laid  it  on  the 
cushion  before  him,  and,  without  uttering  a  word,  extended 
his  hands  in  the  attitude  of  supplication.  The  utter  ab- 
sence of  form,  the  barrenness,  the  coldness  of  the  Puritan 
mode  of  worship,  never  struck  Edward  so  forcibly  as  on 
that  morning.  As  he  ran  his  eye  over  the  upturned  faces, 
a  shudder  passed  through  him.  Mr.  Hamilton  was  right. 


34  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  on  the  action  of  a  few  able,  pure,  but  perhaps  bigoted 
men,  might  hang  the  destiny  of  his  country. 

Whatever  may  have  been  his  thoughts,  Edward's  atten- 
tion was  soon  riveted  by  the  prayer.  Accustomed  to  Dr. 
Spencer's  matchless  eloquence,  he  had  never  thought  until 
that  moment  that  human  language  was  capable  of  giving 
utterance  to  such  pure,  loving,  humble  supplication  and 
prayer.  The  effect  was  wonderful ;  many  a  tear  glistened 
in  eyes  unused  to  weep,  and  found  its  way  down  cheeks 
hardened  by  the  winds  which  "  sweep  o'er  hills  of  snow." 

Outside  of  the  city  of  Boston  there  could  not  have  been 
found,  at  that  time,  an  instrument  of  music  in  any  Congre- 
gational church  in  New  England.  Yet  such  was  the  fer- 
vor of  the  assemblage  that  its  absence  was  hardly  felt. 
The  Psalm  chosen  was  the  old  metrical  version  of  the 
forty-eighth — "  God  is  our  refuge  and  strength,  a  very 
present  help  in  time  of  trouble." 

So  strong  was  the  strain  on  Edward's  nerves,  that  it 
was  a  relief  to  him  when  the  last  note  died  away,  and  the 
sermon  commenced.  Dr.  Spencer  availed  himself  of  the 
occasion  of  its  being  a  "  fast  day  "  to  make  his  discourse 
strictly  political.  No  matter  how  momentous  the  occasion, 
it  is  doubtful  if  he  could  have  allowed  himself  to  discuss 
secular  affairs  on  the  Sabbath.  After  a  most  masterly 
sketch  of  the  grand  principles  which  each  nation  had  suc- 
cessively been  called  upon  to  found  in  the  general  polity 
of  the  world,  he  took  up  the  rise  and  political  progress  of 
this  infant  state.  Under  the  providence  of  God,  freedom, 
he  claimed,  was  its  mission — freedom  built  upon  the  con- 
servative principles  of  law.  The  action  of  the  party  in 
power  he  treated  as  one  of  those  sudden  storms  which  dis- 


FAST    DAY.  35 

turb  the  political  atmosphere  without  in  any  way  altering 
the  regular  order  of  the  seasons. 

Although  he  spoke  for  almost  two  hours,  not  for  one 
moment  did  the  attention  of  his  auditors  flag.  The  effect 
could  at  once  be  seen  and  felt,  as  by  some  electrical  influ- 
ence. A  few  of  the  older  men,  and  one  stern  man  in  par- 
ticular, who  filled  the  post  of  senior  deacon,  frowned 
darkly,  and  once  even  shook  his  head,  at  what  he  consid- 
ered a  melancholy  backsliding  in  political  faith.  But  it 
was  evident  a  change  had  been  wrought,  and  a  large  ma- 
jority of  his  congregation  were  prepared  to  follow  the  lead 
of  their  pastor. 

For  several  minutes  after  he  had  finished  his  discourse, 
Dr.  Spencer  remained  standing,  his  eyes  upraised  as  if  in 
silent  prayer.  Then  leaning  over  the  pulpit,  he  said  in 
clear  low  tones,  which  vibrated  on  every  ear, 

"  My  friends,  it  is  now  thirty  years  since,  when  from 
this  very  spot,  my  father  bade  the  fathers  of  many  whom  I 
now  see  before  me,  '  God  speed,'  when  they  went  to  fight 
for  liberty  as  against  the  tyranny  of  kings.  It  now  be- 
comes my  duty  to  bid  such  of  you  '  God  speed  '  who  are 
called  upon  to  battle  on  behalf  of  your  country.  In  the 
far-off  spirit-land  they  now  look  down  upon  us,  and  they 
ask  in  tones  which  must  penetrate  into  every  heart,  '  Are 
you  willing  to  allow  this  land — the  land  we  gave  you,  the 
land  for  which  we  fought  and  died — to  be  divided  and  torn 
asunder,  to  become  the  fragment  of  a  whole,  the  sport  and 
derision  of  Christendom  ?  To  see  the  bright  star  of  free- 
dom sink  drenched  in  fratricidal  blood  ? '  Your  friends, 
your  brethren,  your  sister  States  are  in  the  field  asking  for 
aid.  Can  you  be  deaf  to  the  call  ?  Receive  the  blessing. 


36  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

May  the  Triune  God  bless,  protect,  and  keep  this,  our 
common  country.  May  He  make  her  free,  happy,  and 
above  all  obedient  to  Him.  May  he  confound  and  destroy 
all  her  enemies,  at  home  and  abroad,  and  may  the  frosts 
of  the  second  death  seize  upon  every  heart  which  does  not 
say  '  Amen  ! ' ' 

The  silence  was  deathlike  for  an  instant,  and  then 
came  a  deep,  unanimous  "  Amen." 

As  the  congregation  rose  to  disperse,  Edward's  arm 
was  seized  by  Mr.  Hamilton,  who  muttered  in  his  ear, 
"  We  are  saved.  The  effect  of  this  man's  overwhelming 
influence  will  be  felt  in  every  nook  and  cranny  of  this 
State.  God  bless  James  Spencer  !  " 

Edward  caught  a  glimpse  of  Sibyl  near  the  church- 
porch,  and,  excusing  himself,  hurried  towards  her.  It  was 
a  trying  ordeal,  this  acknowledgment  before  town's  folk 
and  acquaintances,  but  it  may  be  doubted  if  there  is  any 
young  girl  who,  at  some  period  of  her  life,  would  not  trem- 
blingly have  passed  through  it. 

As  Mr.  Hamilton  lingered  with  a  sad  smile  on  his  face, 
watching  the  lovers  sauntering  off  down  the  shady  lane,  he 
was  joined  by  the  old  deacon  to  whom  we  have  alluded. 

"  You  liked  it,  I  know  you  did,  I  saw  it  in  your  face. 
Never  deny  it  to  me,  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  should  hate  to  dis- 
believe you." 

"  My  dear  sir,  I  have  no  hesitancy  in  declaring  at  once 
that  Dr.  Spencer's  principles  are  mine,  that  heart  and  hand, 
I  go  with  him  to  the  good  work." 

"  Ain't  it  a  surrendering  to  the  Evil  one,  a-bowing  down 
to  the  Scarlet  woman.  'Tisn't  often,  Mr.  Hamilton,  that 
you  worship  in  the  simple  way  of  your  fathers.  You've 


FAST   DAY.  37 

j'ined  the  Episcopal  communion,  not  that  I'm  saying  you 
can't  be  of  the  elect  in  so  doing.  It  is  not  for  a  misera- 
ble worm  like  me  to  make  myself  a  'judge  in  Israel.'  But 
it  is  so  easy  after  you  have  invested  one  dollar,  to  put  in 
another  to  save  it." 

"  My  dear  old  friend,"  said  Hamilton,  not  in  the  slight- 
est degree  discomposed  by  this  sudden  attack,  "  you 
should  know  that  my  family  for  generations  have  been 
members -of  the  '  Church  of  England.'  My  political  faith 
and  yours  are  the  same.  Deacon.  But  I  cannot,  I  will 
not,  I  dare  not  bring  civil  war  upon  my  country." 

"  You  are  in  the  right,"  said  the  other  bitterly;  "  we're 
the  weakest,  and  must  go  to  the  wall.  But  there  is  no 
harm  in  wishing  that  God  will  treat  our  democratic  rulers, 
even  as  Josiah  treated  the  priests  of  Baal,  when  he  slew 
them  at  the  brook  Kedron  in  the  wilderness.  Let's  j'ine 
the  folks,  and  see  how  they  talk.  Ah,  me  !  but  it's  hard 
to  preserve  a  Christian  temper  when  one  is  so  tempted." 


CHAPTER  IV. 
SEAMEN'S    RIGHTS. 

They  love  their  land  because  it  is  their  own 
And  scorn  to  give  ought  other  reason  why, 
Would  shake  hands  with  a  king  upon  his  throne, 
And  think  it  kindness  to  his  majesty." — HALLECK. 

MONO  the  groups  into  which  the  audience 
divided  on  leaving  the  church,  was  one  com- 
posed of  several  men,  whose  manners  marked 
them  as  leaders  in  this  little  world.  They 
acted,  they  moved  and  spoke  like  men  accustomed  to  be 
looked  up  to  and  followed  by  their  less  fortunate  neigh- 
bors. Yet  there  was  still  a  mixture  of  restraint  and  uncer- 
tainty unusual  with  the  ordinary  self-assertion,  of  the  select- 
men of  a  New  England  village.  Deacon  Knapp  was  a  good 
specimen  of  the  "  well-to-do  "  Yankee.  He  was  about  sixty 
years  old,  tall  and  thin,  although  his  height  was  much  less- 
ened by  an  habitual  stoop.  His  gray  hair  was  drawn  back 
in  a  tight  queue,  giving  prominence  to  his  sharp-cut  features. 
His  eyes,  light  blue  and  restless,  were  expressive  of  a  cer- 
tain cunning,  but  his  countenance  was  redeemed  from  vul- 
garity by  the  firm  lines  of  his  mouth  and  the  intensity  of 
his  look.  His  dress  was  a  dark-blue  body  coat  cut  very 
full,  with  side  pockets  and  metal  buttons.  A  waistcoat  of 
some  bright  checked  stuff,  gray  cloth  knee-breeches,  blue 
(38) 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  39 

stockings  and  shoes  with  silver  buckles,  and  a  broad- 
brimmed  white  hat.  His  address  and  bearing  indicated  a 
man  confident  of  his  own  power,  and  accustomed  to  have  his 
remarks  listened  to  respectfully.  He  owned  a  large  farm 
some  distance  from  the  village,  which  had  descended  to 
him  from  his  grandfather.  His  family  consisted  of  two 
sons  and  two  daughters.  One  of  the  boys  had  graduated 
at  Yale  College  and  was  now  a  young  lawyer  in  his  native 
place.  The  second  had  just  taken  his  degree  as  a  "  Doc- 
tor of  Medicine,"  and  was  absent  from  home.  One  of  his 
daughters  had  married  and  lived  near  her  father,  the  other, 
a  fine,  tall,  handsome,  red-cheeked,  black-eyed  girl  kept 
house  for  the  old  man,  who  had  lost  his  wife  many  years 
before.  This  young  girl  was  the  ardent  admirer  and  warm 
friend  of  Sibyl  Spencer. 

Deacon  Knapp  was  evidently  in  a  state  of  bewilderment 
and  doubt.  "  I  kinder  reckon  the  Parson  skimmed  off 
most  of  the  cream  this  morning  from  the  pan,  but  some 
how  he  didn't  ladle  the  milk  clear." 

This  preliminary  speech  was  uttered  loud  enough  to 
be  heard  by  the  younger  men,  who  lingered  near  the  out- 
skirts of  the  group. 

"  There  is  no  use,  Deacon,"  said  the  man  more  particu- 
larly addressed,  and  who  was  always  known  as  Major 
Bailey,  a  leading  politician  on  the  Democratic  side — "  there 
is  no  use  Deacon,  even  in  Dr.  Spencer  a-trying  to  throw 
cold  water  on  this  government.  It  has  the  confidence  of 
the  people  and  they  mean  to  invest  their  fortunes  in  it." 

"  It  don't  seem  to  strike  me,  Major,"  continued  the 
Deacon  eyeing  him  with  some  severity,  and  speaking  with 
tartness,  "  as  how  you've  got  hold  of  the  p'int  of  this  ere 


4O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

argument.  It's  all  very  well  speaking  of  investing  when  it's 
your  savings  you're  puttin'  away  ag'in  a  rainy  day.  You  can 
set  them  down — salt  them  away  like  in  '  Yazoo  lands  '  as 
some  of  us  done,  afore  we  got  to  be  lamed  in  such  matters. 
But  when  a  man  begins  to  talk  of  the  principal  of  what  has 
got,  he  becomes  as  you  say  kinder  keerful."  There  was  a 
chuckle  of  suppressed  laughter — the  Major  having  been 
a  large  speculator  in  Southern  and  Western  land  companies. 
The  Deacon  saw  his  advantage — "  As  I  was  a-saying,  the 
principal  of  our  fortune  rests,  I  reckon,  on  the  strength  and 
durability  of  this  government.  I  am  an  oldish  man,  but 
I'll  smell  powder  afore  I  see  it  broke  up.  We've  had  to 
bear  and  forbear  a  good  deal  since  the  dimicrats  came  in, 
but  I'm  much  mistaken  if  the  most  on  us  here  don't  agree 
in  my  way  of  thinking." 

"  Then  why  don't  you,  and  the  others  who  think  like 
you,  send  in  the  militia  as  the  government  wishes  you  to 
do,"  retorted  the  other,  his  temper  not  improved  by  the 
laugh  that  had  been  raised  against  him. 

"Now  that's  the  p'int  I'm  a-coming  to,"  said  the  old 
man,  not  a  feature  moving,  not  a  tone  in  his  voice  altering. 
"  I  believe  the  general  government's  got  a  right  to  make 
war  or  peace — to  ask  for  our  men,  or  our  money,  all 
under  the  constitution.  I  don't  like  parting  with  money 
more  than  any  of  you,  but  I'll  pay  my  taxes  cheerful,  if  I 
think  there's  justice  in  them,  grumbling  if  I  don't — but 
I'll  pay  them.  I'll  send  my  boys  too,  that  is,  I'll  tell  them 
what  I  think.  But  I'll  not  give  up  one  p'int  in  what  I 
consider  the  constitution  protects  us  in.  To  my  mind  the 
Governor  and  Council  are  right.  Our  militia  belongs  to  us. 
They're  poor  enough — two  days'  training  in  a  year  don't 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  4! 

make  a  soldier,  any  more  than  one  swallow  makes  a  sum- 
mer. But  its  all  we've  got  ag'in  any  sudden  incursion  of 
the  enemy." 

"  Well,"  answered  the  other,  "  that's  just  what  the 
government  wants.  They  want  to  put  them  in  the  forts  at 
New  Haven  and  New  London  to  prevent  the  coasts  from 
being  insulted.  You  give  away  your  whole  case  when  you 
admit  that." 

"  No  I  don't,"  answered  the  Deacon  stoutly.  "  I  can 
plough  my  furrow  as  straight  as  any  man.  If  the  govern- 
ment had  wanted  them  for  that  purpose  do  you  think  they'd 
have  left  a  man  like  you  stay  to  hum.  You  got  your  com- 
mission from  the  State.  You  can't  tell  how  much  better 
the  woman  folk  would  have  felt,  if  you  had  been  sent  down 
to  look  arter  the  boys.  You  are  a  powerful  handsome 
man  in  your  regimentals,  Major  Bailey." 

"What  good  would  I  have  done  anyhow?"  replied 
Bailey. 

"  Not  much,"  continued  the  imperturbable  Deacon. 
"  There's  few  men  set  a  safer  value  on  an  article  than  you 
do,  Major,  when  you  give  your  mind  to  it.  As  I  was  a- 
saying,  that's  not  what  was  intended.  They  meant  to  mix 
our  boys  in  with  the  regulars,  to  dress  them  and  break 
them  in  and  then  ship  them  to  Canada,  to  try  and  conquer 
a  province  that's  not  worth  more  to  this  Union  than  the 
piece  of  land  I  take  to  grow  garden  sass  in.  Them's  my 
views." 

Mr.  Hamilton  had  joined  the  group  as  the  Deacon  was 
speaking,  who  now  turned  towards  him  and  continued — 

"  If  the  general  government's  got  the  right  to  declare 
war,  she's  got  the  right  to  raise  armies,  if  she  can  get  any 


42  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

one  to  go  in  them,  and  in  consequence  the  right  of  laying 
taxes  and  making  loans  to  pay  for  those  armies.  But  she's 
got  to  do  them  things  under  the  constitution.  I  never 
heard  that  the  men  who  drafted  that  ere  instrument  in- 
tended giving  the  power  to  draft  men  into  the  army  or 
navy  only  to  carry  on  a  foreign  war." 

"But,  Deacon,"  broke  in  Bailey,  "hasn't  the  govern- 
ment a  right  to  draft  men  to  defend  the  coast,  and  the 
northern  frontier,  and  to  repress  insurrection  ? " 

"There's  no  insurrection,  there's  no  invasion,"  an- 
swered the  Deacon,  "  there's  no  law  in  danger  which  the 
special  men  of  the  town  can't  enforce  and  not  even  call  on 
the  town  constable  to  help.  If  the  Yorkers  were  up  in 
arms  ag'in  the  courts  it  might  be  a  different  matter.  But 
they  ain't.  Now  this  conquest  of  Canada  is  a  thing  which 
in  my  judgment  the  people's  got  a  fight  to  express  their 
opinion  about.  If  they  wish  to  take  it,  they've  got  a  per- 
fect right  to  jine  the  regular  army  and  try.  For  my  part, 
I  don't  seem  to  hanker  after  it  some  how." 

The  more  moderate  of  his  hearers  evidently  agreed 
with  him.  There  were  however  among  them  several  who 
took  a  much  more  extreme  ground. 

Leaning  against  the  fence  was  a  tall,  handsome  young 
fellow  of  about  six-and-twenty.  One  whose  sunburnt  face, 
strong,  muscular  form,  and  the  indescribable  air  a  seaman 
always  wears,  proclaimed  his  profession. 

"  Don't  you  think,  Deacon,"  he  said,  "  we  might  carry 
this  argument  a  step  further  ?  We  are  a  sea-going,  a  trad- 
ing, and  a  mercantile  community,  we  Connecticut  men,  the 
most  of  us  I  mean.  We  toil  long  and  work  hard,  and  we 
sea-going  men  have  had  about  six  years  of  as  bad  times 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  43 

as  fall  to  the  lot  of  most  people — what  between  British 
orders  in  council,  and  French  decrees,  and  our  own  em- 
bargo and  non-intercourse  acts." 

"That's  the  very  reason,"  interrupted  Bailey,  "that 
you  seamen  should  join  heart  and  hand  in  putting  down 
this  upstart  British  nation.  Let  the  great  French  Emperor 
once  make  the  ocean  free." 

"  I  think,  Major,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  you  are  rather 
sp'iling  to  talk,  and  yet,  I  guess  I'll  act  as  moderator  of 
this  here  meeting  and  we'll  hear  what  Sammy's  got  to 
say." 

"  As  to  the  freedom  of  the  seas,  I  think  I  can  say 
something  about  that,"  continued  the  seaman.  "  The 
English  don't  interfere  with  the  freedom  of  the  seas  ex- 
cept so  far  as  the  law  of  nations  justifies.  I  know  what 
I  am  talking  about,  sir,"  he  said  looking  at  Bailey  who  had 
Jaughed  rather  contemptuously  at  this  statement.  "  I  did 
not  come  in  at  the  cabin  windows.  I  shipped  when  I  was 
a  boy  of  fifteen  at  New  Haven,  and  have  been  through 
all  the  grades,  until  I  stood  master  on  the  quarter  deck." 

"  I  suppose  you  don't  call  impressing  our  native  citizens 
and  shutting  them  up  as  slaves  inside  '  England's  wooden 
walls  '  any  thing,  do  you  ?  "  asked  Bailey  with  a  sneer. 

"  Yes,  I  should,"  continued  Griswold  ;  "  but  the  fun  of 
the  thing  is,  England  has  not  done  it,  except  in  a  few,  a 
very  few  instances,  and  then  the  men  hadn't  their  papers." 

"  Now,  Sammy,  you  ain't  going  a  little  too  far  are  ye  ?  " 
asked  the  Deacon. 

"  I  assert  it  and  I  know  it  can  be  proved.  It  has  been 
stated  in  Congress,  by  the  members  from  this  State,  and 
never  denied  by  the  official  mouth-piece  of  the  government, 


44  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

that  three  quarters  of  all  the  seamen  who  man  our  mer- 
chant vessels  are  foreign  born." 

"That  may  be  so,"  said  Bailey,  "but  they  are  all  natu- 
ralized citizens,  and  therefore  entitled  to  our  protection." 

*'  What  the  law  of  nations  may  be  on  this  subject,"  con 
tinued  Griswold,  "  Mr.  Hamilton  can  tell  you  far  better 
than  I  can.  But  this  I  know,  there's  not  a  custom  house 
in  America  in  which  protections  ain't  issued  for  the  ask- 
ing. And  if  the  collector  stands  out,  which  he  rarely  does, 
you  can  buy  a  witness  for  two  dollars,  at  any  sailor's 
boarding  house,to  swear  he  has  known  you  from  your  birth." 

"  Well,  but,"  said  Bailey,  a  little  staggered  by  the  direct- 
ness of  the  sailor's  statements,  "  if  the  sea,  as  the  Emperor 
desires,  was  made  free,  the  flag  covering  the  cargo,  all  this 
trouble  would  be  done  away  with.  You're  stopped  there, 
I  guess." 

"  No,  sir,  I  am  not,"  replied  Griswold.  "  I  can  show  in 
my  own  case  what  this  freedom  of  the  seas,  the  French 
talk  about,  amounts  to,  if  it  would  interest  you." 

"  Of  course  it  will  interest  us,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton  ; 
"  we  are  all  more  or  less  concerned  in  what  is  now  the 
great  topic  of  the  day." 

"  Well,  then,  last  year  I  was  master  of  as  fine  a  brig  as 
sailed  out  of  a  northern  port." 

The  seaman  controlled  himself  wonderfully,  but  he  was 
evidently  laboring  under  great  excitement. 

"  I  loaded  with  tobacco  at  Baltimore  for  Riga,  then  an 
open  port.  We  had  a  fine  run  over,  and  when  we  got  in 
the  chops  of  the  channel,  we  were  overhauled  by  a  British 
frigate ;  she  hailed  us,  and  we  backed  our  top-sail,  and 
she  sent  a  boat  aboard  with  a  lieutenant." 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  45 

"  How  did  they  behave,"  asked  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  were 
they  as  insolent  and  overbearing  as  they  are  always  repre- 
sented ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least  so,"  answered  the  seaman.  "  He 
was  a  little  haughty — all  officers  in  uniform  are.  He  looked 
over  the  ship's  papers,  had  the  men  mustered  and  com- 
pared my  reckoning.  I  asked  him  down  in  the  cabin  to 
have  a  glass  of  grog,  which  he  accepted.  There  was  a  lady 
passenger  on  board  with  three  children,  one  a  girl  of  about 
fifteen,  who  was  very  sick.  The  officer  left  us  without  a 
word  more.  The  crew  were  all  Americans,  and  had  their 
papers  in  order.  I  had  just  filled  away,  when  the  frigate 
fired  a  gun,  and  the  officer  came  back." 

"Ah,  ha  !  "  said  Bailey,  exultantly,  "  I  knew  you  wouldn't 
get  off  so  cheap.  What  did  they  do  then  ?  Tell  us  all, 
don't  keep  any  thing  back." 

"Don't  worry,"  said  Griswold,  "you  shall  hear  all. 
The  officer  brought  a  file  of  English  papers  for  me,  and 
a  dozen  of  'porter'  for  the  young  lady,  as  a  present  from 
the  ward-room  officers.  I  had  told  him  we  had  nothing 
but  rum  aboard  and  I  was  afraid  she'd  die." 

"  It  somehow  strikes  me,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  although 
I  don't  sit  up  for  a  democratic  politician,  them  Britishers 
ought  to  be  put  down  ;  making  a  Yankee  lose  an  hour, 
and  he  sharp  for  a  market." 

"  That's  not  the  point.  What  right  had  that  frigate  to 
stop  an  American  vessel  on  the  high  seas,"  said  Bailey, 
flushing  a  deep  red. 

"  I  never  heard  before,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  the  right 
of  search  denied  by  any  civilian  in  time  of  war." 

"  We  were  close  in  with  the  French  coast,"  continued 


46  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Griswold,  "  and  had  just  set  the  dog  watch,  when  I  made 
out  a  large  lugger  through  the  haze.  The  wind  had  died 
away  and  it  was  almost  calm,  and  she  ran  us  slap  on 
board.  In  five  minutes  our  decks  were  covered  with  men; 
five  minutes  did  I  say — by  George  !  it  was  not  three, 
before  they  were  in  every  hole  and  cranny  of  the  brig.  In 
the  forecastle,  among  the  men's  things,  in  the  steward's 
pantry.  One  little  black-faced  monkey,  with  his  hair  done 
in  corkscrew  curls,  and  gold  rings  in  his  ears,  began  kiss- 
ing and  pulling  the  lady  about.  She  screamed  with  fright. 
I  just  took  him  under  the  ear  with  my  left  hand.  They 
had  some  trouble  in  bringing  him  to.  I  got  a  wipe  from 
the  captain's  cutlass  —  I  shall  carry  the  mark  to  my 
grave." 

He  bared  his  arm  as  he  spoke.  It  was  seamed  across 
with  a  deep,  ugly  scar. 

"  I  can  use  it  though,"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  and  the 
muscles  rose  like  manilla  cordage. 

There  was  not  a  man  who  doubted  the  fact  that  the 
Frenchman  had  remained  quiet  some  time. 

"  Well,  Griswold,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  what  became 
of  you  after  the  Frenchmen  came  on  board  ?  " 

"They  took  us  into  St.  Malo.  I  showed  them  my 
papers.  I  was  a  neutral,  sailing  for  a  neutral  port.  I  had 
on  board  a  cargo,  declared  by  their  own  courts,  not  to  be 
'  contraband  of  war.'  I  might  just  as  well  have  talked  to 
a  nest  of  pirates.  And  they  are  pirates.  They  seized  the 
ship,  and  on  what  pretext  do  you  think  ?  That  I  had 
'  denationalized  '  myself,  as  they  call  it,  by  having  spoken 
a  British  frigate  in  the  open  sea." 

"  There  you  see,"  said  Bailey,  "  you  ought  to  have  re- 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  47 

sisted,  you  ought  never  to  have  allowed  the  foot  of  an 
Englishman  to  tread  your  decks." 

"Resisted  fiddlesticks,"  answered  the  seaman,  "I 
could  not  have  resisted  if  I  would.  There  was  not  so 
much  as  a  rusty  musket  on  board,  and  I  lying  under  the 
quarter  of  a  thirty-two  gun  frigate." 

"When  did  this  happen — what  month  was  it?  "  asked 
Mr.  Hamilton,  "  was  it  before  the  repeal  to  the  '  Berlin 
and  Milan  decrees.'  " 

"  It  was  the  first  part  of  last  December.  Our  govern- 
ment had  published  to  the  world  that  there  were  no  more 
French  restrictions  on  commerce.  You,  sir,  know  better 
than  I,  if  those  facts  were  not  officially  stated." 

"  I  do,  indeed,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  in  answer  to  this 
inquiry.  "  The  very  statement  is  the  essence  of  our 
charges  against  England." 

"  Didn't  you  do  nothing  at  all,"  sneered  Bailey.  "You 
give  it  up  rather  easily,  ship  and  cargo,  didn't  you  ?  But 
perhaps  your  own  venture  wasn't  a  large  one." 

The  young  sailor  had  been  leaning  against  the  fence  in 
a  careless,  graceful  attitude.  He  turned  his  head  and 
looked  at  the  speaker. 

After  fidgeting  a  moment  Bailey  continued — 

"  Neighbors,  as  this  is  a  fast  day,  and  one  of  prayer, 
may  be  the  Lord  wouldn't  take  it  kindly,  if  we  stand  here* 
all  day  talking." 

"  It  strikes  me,  Major,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  the  women 
folks  must  be  powerful  lonely  at  home  without  you.  It's  bad 
for  the  narves,  in  seasons  of  prayer,  to  let  them  wrastle 
with  the  enemy,  and  no  one  near  to  keep  their  courage 
up.  I  think  you  are  about  right  in  going  to  hum,  I  do." 


48  SIBYL    SPENCER, 

There  was  no  dissenting  voice,  the  Major  left. 

"  As  we're  sociable,  and  all  together  like,  Captain,  sup- 
pose we  go  on  with  that  story  of  yours." 

"  There's  little  more  to  tell  ;  I  hung  round  St.  Malo 
until  the  Prize  Court  decided  the  confiscation,  and  then  I 
got  permission  to  go  to  Paris. 

"  Did  you  obtain  assistance  from  our  minister  at  the 
French  court,  Griswold  !  "  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  and  was 
the  trial  an  open  one,  and  had  you  counsel  ?  " 

"We  had  no  minister  there  at  the  time,  only  a  'charge' 
d'affaires,'  not  that  it  was  any  loss  to  either  the  owners  or 
myself.  Everybody  told  me  that  our  late  minister,  General 
Armstrong,  paid  little  attention  to  the  sufferings  of  either 
seamen  or  travellers.  I  had  a  counsel,  a  M.  Le  Grange.  I 
think  him  the  only  honest,  fearless  man  in  France.  At 
first  the  court  released  the  vessel,  but  afterwards  she  was 
condemned  by  a  special  order  of  the  Emperor." 

"  You  say  suffering,  Griswold.  Did  you,  personally, 
have  any  cause  of  complaint  ?  " 

"  I  was  only  obliged  to  pawn  every  thing,  down  to  my 
last  jacket.  I  had  nowhere  to  sleep,  and  was  dogged  and 
followed  everywhere  by  spies  and  police.  They  started 
once  to  take  me  to  the  '  Temple.'  That  is  all,  sir." 

"  I  know'd  you'd  come  of  good  old  Puritan  stock, 
Sammy,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  and  would  hold,  like  your  old 
daddy,  that  the  place  to  worship  God  was  in  the  '  temple 
not  built  by  hands,'  rather  than  in  any  vain  imagining  of 
man's  works.  But  didn't  you  carry  the  p'int  a  little  far,  to 
call  it  '  suffering,'  only  to  go  in  it  ?  I  ask  this  inquiring 
like." 

Mr.  Hamilton  had  to  turn  his  head  to  hide  a  smile  at 


SEAMEN  S    RIGHTS.  49 

the  old  man's  simplicity.     Griswold  broke  into  a  hearty 
laugh. 

"The  Temple  I  mean,  Deacon,  was  the  worst  prison  in 
France." 

"  Do  tell  now,"  said  the  Deacon  ;  "  who  but  a  French- 
man would  call  a  prison  a  temple.  Keep  on  talking, 
Sammy,  it's  better  than  a  sermon.  Now  we  hain't  got  any 
dimmicrats,  at  least  none  to  speak  on,  to  p'ison  the  air — 
keep  right  on." 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,"  said  the  sailor,  "  I  saw  sights  in  those 
prison  pens  in  France  which  would  have  made  your  blood 
run  cold.  Hundreds,  nay  thousands  of  our  seamen,  some 
of  them  from  the  towns  and  villages  of  this  our  native  State, 
men  who  have  been  missing  for  years,  and  whom  we 
thought  shut  up  in  England's  frigates — farmed  out  at  so 
much  a  head  to  the  brutal  peasantry,  and  worked  under 
the  lash,  harder  than  we  work  our  oxen.  Glad,  I  say,  to 
get  a  little  sour  bread  and  wine,  to  keep  body  and  soul  to- 
gether. Men  shut  up  for  no  crime.  Taken  from  vessels  ; 
condemned  on  pretexts  ten  times  more  trifling  even  than 
mine  was." 

"I'd  like  to  ask,"  interrupted  the  Deacon,  "if  Mr. 
Hamilton,  who  has  been  a  servant  of  the  people  for  some 
years,  knows  if  these  facts  have  ever  been  brought  to  the 
knowledge  of  our  government  ?  " 

"  Not  to  my  personal  knowledge,  Deacon.  You  re- 
member I  have  never  been  an  office-holder  under  either 
Mr.  Madison  or  his  predecessor.  I  have,  however,  every 
reason  to  believe  that  f acts, ,  such  as  Captain  Griswold  has 
stated,  have  often  been  laid  before  the  government,  and 
are,  and  were,  thoroughly  well  known  to  the  high  state  of- 
ficials." 

4 


5O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

There  was  a  pause,  broken  by  the  Deacon,  who  rever- 
ently took  off  his  hat. 

"  The  God  of  our  fathers,  the  same  great  Guid  and 
Ruler  of  the  Universe,  will  no  doubt  find  a  way  of  escape 
for  his  children,  if  they  do  but  serve  him,  and  do  their 
duty.  I  agree,  for  one,  with  Parson  Spencer ;  and  if  our 
country  needs  us,  as  far  as  a  man  who's  getting  along  in 
years  can  help,  he  will.  She's  our  country  after  all,  even 
if  the  dimmicrats  be  in  power.  Them's  my  sentiments." 

The  solemn  air  and  manner  of  the  man  touched  Mr. 
Hamilton,  who  turned  as  the  group  broke  up,  and  walked 
towards  his  own  house.  Familiar  as  he  was  with  all  the 
varied  peculiarities  of  his  countrymen,  he  felt  that  the  sal- 
vation of  his  native  land  depended  upon  this  calm,  deep, 
religious  feeling,  which  could  in  all  events  be  relied  upon 
in  the  bulk  of  the  New  England  yeomen. 


CHAPTER  V. 


SALLY'S    CHOICE. 

"  And  when  you  dream  of  woman  and  her  love, 
Her  truth,  her  tenderness,  her  gentle  power, 
Her  maiden-listening  in  the  moonlight  grove  ; 
The  mother  smiling  in  her  infant's  bower ; 
Forms,  features,  worshipped  while  we  breathe  or  move 
Be  by  some  spirit  of  your  dreaming  hour, 
Borne,  like  Loretto's  chapel,  through  the  air, 
To  the  green  land  I  sing,  then  wake,  you'll  find  them  there.' 

HALLECK. 

F  you  isn't  tired,  Sammy,"  said  the  Deacon,  as 
the  group  dispersed,   "  perhaps  you  might  like 
to  stretch  your  legs   a  little.     I've  got  some 
questions  I  should  like  to  put  you." 
The  change  which  came  over  the  young  man  when  thus 
addressed,  did  not  escape  the  quick-sighted  farmer,  who 
eyed  him  keenly.     They  had  walked  some  distance  down 
-the  road  before  the  silence  was  broken. 

"  Was  your  own  venture  in  the  brig  a  large  one,  Sammy?  " 
said  the  Deacon. 

"  All  I  had  in  the  world,"  replied  the  seaman. 
"What?"   said   the   other,  stopping  in   his   walk,  and 
gazing  at  the  sailor  with  open-eyed  wonder,   "What,  all  ? — 
what,  the  old  farm,  and  the  bank  stock,  and  all  your  daddy 
left  you  ?  " 

The  other  only  nodded. 


52  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

There  was  a  long  silence. 

"  Sammy,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  how  long  have  you  been 
back — in  the  country  I  mean  ? " 

"About  three  weeks.  Only  since  last  night  in  this 
town." 

"  You've  been  back  three  weeks  in  America,  and  not 
been  to  see  your  friends  !  " 

"  Look  here,  Deacon,"  said  the  other,  "  you  might  as 
well  hear  the  story  at  once.  At  least  if  you  wish  to." 

"  In  course  I  do,"  said  the  elder  man  ;  "go  on." 

"  Sister  and  I  divided  what  father  left,  two  years  ago. 
She  took  the  old  farm  and  the  stock  on  it,  and  I  turned  the 
rest  into  money,  and  bought  a  quarter  interest  in  the 
'  Alert.'  You  know  I  was  away  about  two  years  the  voy- 
age before  this  last  one.  When  we  put  into  Baltimore,  you 
may  remember,  I  just  ran  up  here  to  see  sister,  and — and 
the  folks." 

The  young  man  reddened  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  see'd  ye,"  dryly  muttered  the  old  man. 

"  Well,"  continued  the.  seaman,  growing  more  and  more 
embarrassed,  "  I  had  saved,  what  with  my  pay  and  my  own 
ventures,  and  my  quarter  of  the  profits,  about  ten  thousand 
dollars.  So  I  bought  my  share  of  the  tobacco,  and  I  had 
hoped  to  have  enough  by  this  time  to  have  spoken  to  you. 
But,"  he  added  bitterly,  "  what  has  a  poor  sailor  man  to 
hope  for  in  these  times,  when  he  has  nothing  but  his  two 
hands  to  help  himself  with." 

"  That's  gospel  truth  any  way,"  muttered  the  Deacon  ; 
"but,"  he  said  aloud,  "it  ain't  no  reason  why  you  shouldn't 
have  been  to  see  your  friends — neighbor-like,  Captain 
Griswold." 


SALLYS     CHOICE.  53 

"  I  know  it,  I  know  it,"  said  the  Captain.  "  I  hadn't 
the  courage.  It  was  only  the  day  before  I  left  to  take  com- 
mand, that  last  voyage,  I  asked  your  daughter,  if  I  came 
back  this  time  with  enough  to  buy  a  farm,  and  make  things 
snug  and  ship-shape,  she'd  have  me." 

"  And  what  did  she  say  ?  "  asked  the  Deacon  sharply. 

"  She  only  laughed.  Not  a  word,  good  or  bad,  could  I 
get  out  of  her." 

"  She's  an  uncommon  sensible  girl,  is  my  darter,"  again 
muttered  the  old  man. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  seaman,  disregarding  the  Deacon's 
speech,  "  I  went  away  half  mad,  and  this  place  would  not 
have  seen  me  again  in  years,  had  it  not  been  that  I  got  a 
letter  the  day  before  I  sailed.  There  was  not  one  word  of 
writing  in  it,  it  only  held  this ;  but  some  how  I  felt  better." 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  worn-out  envelope,  and 
showed  a  dark  curl  of  hair,  tied  with  a  blue  ribbon. 

"  I  kept  that,  if  I  did  not  keep  either  the  ship  or  the 
cargo." 

The  Deacon  stood  still  on  the  road.  He  looked  his 
companion  from  head  to  foot. 

"  Sammy,  when  I  was  a  boy,  I  played  with  your  daddy, 
down  by  the  old  school-house  yonder.  We  went  out  to- 
gether in  '76 — and  we  sat  together  in  the  old  meeting- 
house until  he  died.  I'd  take  it  uncommon  kind  if  you'd 
just  drop  in  and  have  a  chat  with  the  old  man  to-night, 
if  you've  nothing  better  to  do.  There'll  be  nobody  there 
to  speak  on,  but  I'd  take  it  kind,  I  would." 

He  left  the  sailor  abruptly,  and  walked  rapidly  down 
the  road.  Deacon  Knapp's  house  stood  close  on  the 
road.  The  first  story  was  built  of  rough  stone,  and  the 


54  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

upper  story  was  of  wood,  shingled  on  the  outside.  In  front 
was  a  porch  covered  with  honeysuckle  and  briar  roses. 
You  could  still  see  the  marks  of  loop-holes  in  the  walls. 
Many  and  many  a  time  had  the  whoop  of  the  savaga 
Pequot  awakened  in  that  building  "the  sleep  of  the 
cradle."  There  was  the  same  absence  of  taste  in  all  the 
surroundings,  always  noticeable  in  New  England  farm- 
houses. The  barns  were  large,  and  in  good  order.  Com- 
parative wealth  was  there,  but  it  was  shown  in  the  simpli- 
city of  sixty  years  ago.  The  Deacon  entered  at  once  into 
the  kitchen,  evidently  the  common  sitting-room  of  the 
family.  Every  thing  was  beautifully  clean  and  neat.  In 
one  corner  ticked  an  old-fashioned  clock,  its  polished  wood 
and  silver  dial  marking  the  antiquity  of  its  make.  A  few 
books  hung  in  a  book-shelf  against  the  wall,  also  two  or 
three  cheap  prints  of  scenes  in  the  Revolutionary  War,  the 
attack  on  Quebec  and  the  fall  of  Montgomery,  a  head 
of  Washington,  around  which  were  still  the  remains  of  a 
wreath.  Over  the  old-fashioned  chimney-place  hung  a 
musket  and  one  or  two  long  clay  pipes,  also  several  curiosi- 
ties of  Indian  warfare  and  the  chase.  A  strapping  country 
girl,  the  hired  help,  was  sweeping  the  remains  of  the  "  fast- 
day  "  meal  off  the  polished  oak  table,  and  to  whose  ques- 
tion "  if  he  wanted  any  thing  to  eat,"  the  old  man  replied 
by  shaking  his  head.  The  Deacon  took  down  one  of  the 
pipes  and  filled  it  with  tobacco  from  a  box  on  the  shelf, 
then  seated  himself  by  the  open  window.  His  low  mutter- 
ing at  length  found  vent  in  words. 

"  The  boy  is  as  like  Israel  as  two  peas.  He's  got  the 
same  temper  and  the  same  principles.  Sally" — this  last 
word  he  uttered  aloud. 


SALLY  S     CHOICE.  55 

"Where's  Sally?"  he  asked  the  girl  who  came  in. 

"  I  see'd  her  going  across  the  meadow  towards  the 
brook  as  you  came  in,"  answered  the  servant.  "  Was  there 
much  of  a  crowd  at  meeting  to-day,  and  how  did  the  folks 
take  Dr.  Spencer's  sermon  ?  " 

The  old  man  made  no  answer,  but  smoked  on  in 
silence.  The  girl  only  wanted  a  listener,  so  she  went  on 
with  her  remarks. 

"  I  thought  I  see'd  Sam  Griswold  go  by  the  house  this 
morning.  Has  he  come  back  again  ?  Perhaps  he  didn't 
get  the  mitten  after  all — who  knows  ?  " 

"  Nobody,  if  you  don't,"  said  the  old  man.  "  You 
generally  find  out  every  thing  about  your  neighbors'  doings 
as  soon  as  anybody." 

"What's  the  use  of  eyes,  if  they  isn't  for  seeing,"  said 
the  girl.  "  Howsomever,  here's  Sally,  and  you  kin  ask 
her."  With  this  last  fling  the  girl  flounced  out  of  the 
kitchen  and  slammed  the  door. 

She  who  now  stood  in  the  door-way  was  a  rare  specimen 
of  New  England  beauty.  Tall  and  slight,  but  beautifully 
rounded  in  figure,  with  bright  black  eyes,  red  cheeks,  and 
long,  glossy,  dark  brown  hair.  Her  mouth  was  perhaps  a 
trifle  large,  but  her  red  lips  and  white  teeth  took  away 
from  the  defect,  if  defect  it  was.  She  was  the  possessor 
of  charms  sufficient  to  bewilder  a  more  accomplished  man 
of  the  world  than  a  free-spoken,  open-hearted  sailor.  The 
old  Deacon  evidently  thought  so,  for  he  eyed  her  long 
and  keenly.  There  was  a  slight  degree  of  constraint  in 
the  girl's  manner,  as  she  sat  down  near  the  open  door 
playing  with  a  few  wild  flowers  she  had  gathered  during 
her  walk. 


56  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  What  kept  you  so  long  at  meeting  ? "  she  asked  ; 
"  will  you  have  any  thing  to  eat,  or  are  you  going  to  fast  ?  I 
wish  you  would  deny  yourself  that  horrid  tobacco,  there 
would  be  some  reason  in  that.  Come  out  on  the  porch, 
this  room  is  hot  and  uncomfortable." 

"  I  will,"  said  her  father  ;  "  I  want  to  talk  with  you, 
Sally." 

"  Well,  you  have  not  answered  my  question — what 
kept  you  so  long  at  meeting  ?  " 

"  Oh !  Mr.  Hamilton  and  me,  and  some  of  the  others 
got  arguing  about  the  war.  Then  we  had  Bailey." 

"  Disagreeable  man,"  broke  in  the  girl ;  'f  I  hope  you 
gave  him  a  piece  of  your  mind." 

"Well,  he  didn't  seem  to  take  much  stock  in  what  was 
said,  nor  in  the  story  Sammy  Griswold  told  neither." 

"  Who  ?  "  said  his  daughter  growing  deadly  pale,  and 
then  flushing  up,  over  neck  and  face. 

"  Why  Sammy — he's  come  to  hum  again,  and  there 
ain't  much  left  of  him  neither.  I  mean  in  the  way  of 
property." 

"  Why,  what's  •  happened  to  him  ?  "  asked  the  girl 
coldly. 

"  Only  his  ship  and  cargo  was  taken  by  the  French,  and 
he  hasn't  a  rapp  to  bless  himself  with,"  replied  her  father. 

"  How  long  has  he  been  home,  here  in  America  I 
mean  ?  "  asked  the  girl. 

"  Something  like  four  weeks  maybe,"  said  her  father. 

"  I  knew  he  had  been  back  some  little  time." 

"  How  did  you  hear  that,  and  why  didn't  you  tell  me  ?  " 
asked  her  father. 

"  His  sister  had  a  letter  from  him.     It  did  not  interest 


SALLY  S    CHOICE.  57 

me,  and  I  thought  it  would  not  interest  you,"  replied  the 
daughter,  looking  at  the  flowers  she  was  pulling  to  pieces 
between  her  fingers. 

"She's  a-lying,"  muttered  the  old  man  between  his 
teeth. 

"There  was  nothing  between  you  and  Sammy,  was 
there,  Sally  ? " 

"  Oh  dear,  no,"  said  the  girl ;  "  what  put  such  an  idea 
in  your  head  ? "" 

"  You  never  writ  him  any  letters  or  such  like,  did 
ye?" 

"  Me  !  "  said  Sally  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  Do  you  think 
I  write  to  all  the  young  men  who  keep  company  with 
me?" 

"  I  knew  she  was  a-lying,"  again  muttered  the  keen- 
sighted  old  man.  "  Well,  then,  there's  no  harm  done  ;  a 
poor  devil  of  a  sailor's  no  match  for  my  daughter  in  such 
times  as  these." 

"  He  never  was  a  match,"  said  the  girl  looking  fiercely 
at  her  father  with  her  big  black  eyes.  "  What  put  all  these 
ideas  in  your  head.  You  do  not  generally  take  so  much 
trouble  about  my  sweethearts,"  and  she  blushed  deeply  as 
she  spoke. 

"  Why  you  see,  Sally,  I  was  a  thinking  if  you  had 
led  him  on  like,  it  might  be  kinder  difficult  to  turn  him 
away,  now  he's  poor  you  know.  But  as  you  say  there's 
nothing  in  it,  I'm  bound  to  believe  you."  The  old  man 
rose  from  his  seat,  shook  the  ashes  out  of  his  pipe,  and 
coming  up  softly  to  his  daughter,  laid  his  hand  on  her 
glossy  hair. 

"  You  see,  my  darter,  the  boys  are  going  to  have  their 


58  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

share  of  my  property  in  money,  when  I  die,  and  I  will 
give  your  sister  the  farm  she  now  lives  on.  So  she  will  be 
comfortable.  I  always  hoped  that  this  old  place  would  go 
down  to  your  children.  You've  always  taken  care  of  me 
since  mother  died,  so  I  want  you  to  marry  some  man 
well-off  in  the  world,  and  one  who  can  take  a  stand  in  the 
town  and  among  his  neighbors." 

The  girl's  eyes  had  filled  with  tears  as  the  old  man 
spoke,  and  she  rested  her  cheek  against  his  rough  hand. 
"  I'll  never  marry,  father,"  she  said  ;  "  we  will  always  live 
here,  as  we  have  done  these  last  five  years." 

"That's  as  may  be,"  said  the  Deacon.  "  I  thought  it 
would  be  kind  like  to  ask  Sammy  down.  I  thought, 
maybe,  I  might  help  him  to  earn  an  honest  living,  for  he 
talked  something  of  going  in  the  army.  He  said  he'd 
come  down  this  afternoon  and  talk  the  matter  over.  I  just 
thought  I'd  tell  you,  so  you  might  know  how  to  act." 
The  old  man  chuckled,  as  he  walked  towards  the  barn- 
yard. "If  that  doesn't  fix  it,  they're  two  darned  fools," 
he  muttered. 

The  girl  sat  still  in  the  porch  with  a  bewildered  look.  It 
was  the  first  time  in  her  life  that  her  father  had  ever  spoken 
to  her  of  any  of  her  actions.  She  had  been  in  the  very  fullest 
sense  allowed  the  liberty  which  every  American  girl  claims 
almost  as  her  birthright.  She  had  known  Griswold  since  her 
earliest  childhood  ;  he  had  been  her  playmate  and  boy  lover, 
and  their  attachment  had  been  mutual.  Unable  to  control 
the  natural  coquetry  of  her  disposition,  she  had  played  with 
the  passion  of  the  sailor  until  he  left,  and  then  she  sent 
him  the  strongest  proof  of  her  affection  in  the  lock  of  hair. 
Long  and  anxiously  she  had  watched  and  waited  for  his 


SALLY  S    CHOICE.  59 

return  from  a  voyage,  which  she  had  understood  was  to  be  a 
short  one.  He  came  home,  but  it  was  not,  as  usual,  to  hasten 
to  D— — .  A  letter  to  his  sister,  of  which  she  only  saw  a 
portion,  spoke  vaguely  of  other  plans  and  intentions. 
Stung  to  madness,  the  girl  fell  back  upon  herself,  and 
bitter  were  the  thoughts  and  intentions  that  pretty  head 
revolved,  by  which  she  would  snap  forever  the  last  link 
which  bound  him  to  her.  All  this  did  not  prevent  Miss 
Sally  from  making  herself  look  as  pretty  and  attractive  as 
lay  in  her  power.  Her  best  white  dress,  the  few  little  orna- 
ments which  their  simple  habits  allowed,  her  long  glossy 
ringlets  in  the  fashion  of  the  day,  worn  loose  and  flowing, 
tied  with  a  blue  ribbon. 

The  long  June  evening  was  deepening  into  night,  as 
the  Deacon  sat  by  the  window  smoking  his  never-failing 
pipe.  He  had  been  watching  his  child  as  she  slowly  walked 
up  and  down  the  path  which  led  from  the  house  to  the 
gate.  The  look  he  cast  on  her  was  one  half  of  amuse- 
ment half  of  sorrow.  Few  would  have  given  the  shrewd 
old  Yankee  farmer  credit  for  the  tender  spot  which  lin- 
gered in  that  toil-worn  frame.  He  did  remember — not  many 
of  us  do — that  he  had  been  young.  The  memories  of  past 
years  came  back  to  him — a  fair  form  so  like  his  daugh- 
ter's. He  had  always,  on  that  account,  loved  her  more 
than  all  his  children — she  was  so  like  her  mother.  When 
should  he  see  her  again  ?  For  the  first  time  his  stern 
Puritan  faith  was  shaken.  He  needed  no  exposition  on 
that  subject.  She  was  of  the  elect.  A  low  murmur  of  voices 
had  struck  his  ear  for  some  time,  without  rousing  his  at- 
tention, when  leaning  somewhat  forward,  he  certainly  saw 
two  persons,  very  close  to  each  other,  on  that  vine-covered 


6O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

porch.  The  girl  was  sitting,  leaning  back  against  the  railing, 
and  as  the  faint  light  of  evening  stole  softly  over  her,  the 
Deacon  thought  he  could  distinguish,  yes,  he  was  certain 
he  could,  the  head  of  a  man.  The  man  must  be  standing 
on  the  ground  just  behind  her,  which  brought  his  head  to 
a  level  with  hers.  Deacon  Knapp  had  never  studied  light 
and  shade,  or  the  effect  of  foreshortening,  but  it  certainly 
did  look  like  a  man's  arm,  that  dark  shadow  which  was 
thrown  around  the  young  girl's  dress.  There  is  much 
dry  humor  in  the  American  character,  and  it  was  with  a 
chuckle  of  malicious  pleasure  that  the  old  man  stood 
about  an  hour  later  in  the  open  door-way. 

"  Why,  Sammy,  is  that  you,  I've  been  expecting  you 
the  whole  evening.  You  must  have  been  powerful  lonely, 
all  alone  here  by  yourself.  Sally,  come  in,  come  in, 
we'll  have  a  light  and  then  a  man  can  see  yer.  My  eyes 
ain't  as  good  as  they  used  to  be." 

His  daughter  sprang,  blushing  and  confused,  past  the 
smiling  old  man,  and  hid  herself  in  the  recesses  of  her 
own  room. 

The  young  sailor  followed  his  host  into  the  sitting- 
room.  Never  before  had  he  endured  such  an  agony  of 
fear.  When  "  well-to-do,"  more  than  commonly  rich,  in  this 
world's  goods,  he  had  hesitated  to  meet  the  clear,  cold  eye 
of  Sally's  father ;  now,  shipwrecked  in  fortune,  what  was 
he  to  say  ? 

The  old  man  struck  a  light,  and  slowly  turned  to  the 
silent,  almost  trembling  man. 

"  Well."  It  was  only  one  syllable,  but  oh !  how  hard 
to  answer. 

"Deacon  Knapp,  Sally  and  I  have  agreed.    No,  its  all 


SALLY'S  CHOICE.  61 

my  own  doings.  I  want  to  marry  your  daughter.  I've 
nothing  in  the  world  to  offer  but  a  strong  pair  of  hands, 
and  an  honest  love." 

"  Well." 

If  Griswold  had  been  guilty  of  neglect,  the  punishment 
was  awful.  Could  the  old  man  say  nothing  but  "well." 

"  Well,  why  I  want  her  father's  consent  and  blessing, 
that's  all." 

"  You  could  have  had  that  any  time  you'd  asked  for 
it  these  four  years."  He  struck  his  hand  into  that  of  the 
sailor.  "  May  the  God  of  our  fathers'  bless  you  both.  I 
love  money  as  much  as  most  men  do,  but  I  love  an  honest 
heart  and  sound  principles  better,  and  I  believe  you've 
got  both,  Captain  Griswold." 

There  was  a  slight  rustle  at  the  door,  which  did  not 
escape  the  Deacon's  ear. 

"  Come  in,  Sally,  and  act  reasonable.  I'm  going  to 
bed  in  five  minutes,  but  first — "  And  as  the  Deacon  spoke, 
he  took  down  from  a  shelf  an  old,  carefully  studied  Bible, 
and  laid  it  on  the  table,  putting  on  a  pair  of  horn  glasses. 
"  Jist  call  the  help.  We'll  read  a  chapter  of  the  blessed 
Book,  and  ask  a  favor  of  the  Almighty  on  this  poor,  suf- 
fering, dimmicrat-ridden  country  of  our'n,  before  we  say 
good-night." 


CHAPTER  VI. 


EPH. 

"  And  there's  a  nice  youngster  of  excellent  pith — 
Fate  tried  to  conceal  him  by  naming  him  Smith  ; 
But  he  shouted  a  song  for  the  brave  and  the  free — 
Just  read  on  his  medal,  '  My  Country '  of  thee !  " 

HOLMES. 

PHRAIM  DODGE  was  the  son  of  a  poor  ne'er- 
do-well  "  inhabitant  of  the  village.  When  a 
boy,  he  had  been  taken  into  the  family  of  Dr. 
Spencer  to  do  odd  "  chores,"  as  the  current 
Yankee  word  expressed  it,  and  to  make  himself  generally 
useful — a  servant  he  never  considered  himself.  In  his 
own  opinion  he  formed  an  integral  portion  of  the  family. 
The  Doctor,  to  whom  teaching  was  a  passion,  had  labored 
to  instil  all  that  he  himself  knew  into  the  shrewd-headed 
boy,  but  in  vain.  Not  that  Eph.  did  not  possess  the 
necessary  intellect,  for  in  that  respect  he  was  uncommonly 
gifted,  but  it  did  not  show  itself  in  book-learning.  In  .all 
things  that  concerned  a  bargain,  in  making  the  most  of  the 
Doctor's  little  farm,  in  buying  for  him  the  best  cows  at 
the  lowest  price,  and  selling  them  at  the  highest  rate,  when 
they  ceased  giving  milk,  in  such  things  he  had  no  equal. 
It  was,  however,  all  done  with  an  eye  to  his  own  personal 


EPH.  63 

advantage ;  a  circumstance  which  provoked  Mrs.  Spen- 
cer's loud-spoken  indignation,  and  was  to  the  Doctor  a 
never-failing  source  of  the  keenest  enjoyment.  What 
Eph.  did  with  his  money,  was,  and  always  had  been,  a 
mystery.  There  were  no  Savings  Banks  in  those  days,  nor 
was  Eph.  known  to  be  an  invester  in  any  of  the  ordinary 
securities  of  the  times.  He  was  grudgingly  liberal  to  his 
father,  but  required  him  to  account  strictly  for  every  dollar 
advanced.  When  questioned  as  to  his  means,  his  answers 
were  short  and  reserved.  "  He  guessed  he'd  take  as  good 
care  of  the  little  he  had,  as  any  one  he  knew  of."  At  least 
those  were  his  sentiments.  Perhaps  the  strong  passion  of 
the  man's  nature  was  for  Edward  Mason.  Although  sev- 
eral years  younger,  he  had  been  his  playmate,  and  looked 
up  to  him  with  the  homage  a  little  boy  always  pays  to  a 
big  boy.  He  kept  up  a  correspondence  with  him  at  long 
intervals,  writing  shrewd,  clever  letters,  full  of  local  gossip, 
and  intimating  rather  than  actually  stating  his  full  under- 
standing of  the  relationship  which  existed  between  Sibyl 
and  himself.  In  person  Ephraim  was  rather  above  middle 
height,  and  although  slight,  was  remarkable  for  his  strength 
and  activity.  His  clear  cold  blue  eye,  and  curly  light 
brown  hair  marked  his  genuine  Saxon  descent. 

It  was  on  a  bright,  lovely  morning,  the  dew  still  fresh 
upon  the  grass,  that  Eph.  accosted  the  Doctor  who  was 
sauntering  up  and  down  the  little  grass  plot  by  the  side  of 
the  house  drinking  in  the  fragrance  of  the  June  flowers 
before  entering  upon  the  labors  of  the  day. 

"  I  guess,"  said  the  man  suddenly,  stopping  in  front  of 
the  Doctor,  "  I've  made  a  bargain  for  you  this  morning." 

"  How  so,  Eph.  ? "    asked  the  Doctor,  looking  at  him 


64  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

kindly  as  he  stood  before  him,  his  hat  on  the  back  of  his 
head,  opening  and  shutting  the  blade  of  a  large  jack-knife, 
and  occasionally  varying  the  operation  by  picking  his 
teeth  with  it. 

"  Why,  I've  traded  that  short-horn  cow  of  our'n  with 
Major  Bailey  for  his  brindle  heifer  and  five  dollars  to  boot. 
That's  all ! " 

There  was  an  air  of  supreme  satisfaction  in  Eph.'s 
manner  as  if  the  transaction  was  one  the  difficulty  of 
which  insured  high  commendation. 

"  Of  course  you  told  the  Major,"  said  the  Doctor  with 
a  twinkle  in  his  eye,  "  that  the  old  cow  let  run  her  milk  ? " 

"  Well,  no,"  answered  the  other,  "  he  didn't  ask  me." 

"  Now,  look  here,  my  boy,  I  have  no  objection  to  your 
making  a  good  bargain  for  me — on  the  contrary,  I  profit 
by  it.  But  none  of  my  flock  must  say  I  took  advantage  of 
them." 

"  Did  he  tell  me  his'n  was  a  kicker  ?  "  asked  Eph, 
deeply  exploring  the  recesses  of  his  mouth. 

"  Does  she  kick  ?  " 

"  The  worst  in  the  township.  I  went  ove.r  to  the  Ma- 
jor's twice  at  milking-time,  kinder  neighbor-like,  and  so 
took  in  the  situation." 

"  If  that  is  the  case,  how  am  I  benefited  ? "  said  the 
Doctor  rather  angrily. 

Eph.  retained  the  same  imperturbable  coolness. 

"  A  piece  of  rope  won't  cost  you  more  nor  ten  cents." 

"  What  am  I  "to  do  with  a  piece  of  rope  ?  Hang  the 
creature  ? 

"  Tie  her  hind  legs,  she  can't  kick  then,"  continued 
Eph. 


EPH.  65 

"  Why  did  not  Bailey  do  that  ?  and  why  did  you  not 
tell  him  of  so  simple  a  remedy  ? " 

"  Can't  say,"  said  the  man.  "  In  the  first  place  he 
didn't  ask  me,  and  it  wasn't  part  of  my  business  to  interfere 
with  his  women  folk." 

The  Doctor  laughed  and  turned  to  enter  the  house. 

"  Hadn't  we  better,"  continued  the  man  in  the  same 
imperturbable  tone,  "  settle  that  '  five  dollar '  business  ? " 

"  That's  easily  done,"  said  the  Doctor  stopping  and 
extending  his  hand. 

"  Well  now,  you  see,  I  didn't  get  the  five  dollars  in 
money  exactly." 

"So?" 

"  I  owed  a  bill  to  the  Major's  for  sundries,  and  he  paid 
himself  on  account. 

"  So,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  you  owe  me  that  amount." 

"  Well,  not  exactly.  You  see,  when  I  paid  for  the 
painting  of  the  old  chaise,  Leach  took  that  one-year-old 
hog  of  mine  in  part  pay  of  his  bill.  So  I  just  put  one 
agin  the  other.  Do  you  see  ?  " 

"  I  see  somehow  or  another  that  I  have  not  got  the  five 
dollars,"  said  the  Doctor,  turning  to  enter  the  house. 

Ephraim  was  too  good  a  tactician  to  prolong  a  useless 
discussion.  "  So  Ed.  and  Sibyl  have  come  together  at 
last,  have  they?"  he  continued,  again  arresting  the  Doc- 
tor on  his  way  to  the  door. 

"Yes,  thanks  be  to  the  Almighty  Disposer  of  all 
things,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  Are  you  not  pleased,  my  boy  ? " 

"  Guess  it  went  a  little  agin  the  grain  with  the  old  lady, 
didn't  it  ?  "  asked  Ephraim,  in  rather  a  more  drawling  tone 
than  usual. 

5 


66  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

The  Doctor  looked  at  him  with  astonishment. 

"Why,  my  wife  loves  Edward  as  if  he  were  her  own 
son,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  May  be !  But  it  doesn't  follow  that  she'd  wish  to  turn 
the  relationship  into  that  of  'son-in-law/  does  it?" 

"  What  do  you  mean  ? "  said  the  old  gentleman. 
"  Speak  out  plainly,  can  you  not? " 

"  It  always  appeared  to  me  as  if  she'd  sot  her  cap  for 
Mr.  Hamilton.  Remember,  I  only  think  so." 

"  Pshaw  !  "  said  the  Doctor,  half  angrily  yet  still  greatly 
amused. 

This  conversation  had  taken  place  within  a  few  feet  of 
the  open  dining-room  windows,  one  of  the  blinds  of  which 
was  pushed  back,  and  Mrs.  Spencer  leaned  out — 

"  Why  cannot  you  take  a  basket  and  get  me  some  eggs 
at  the  store,  Ephraim,  if  you  think  there  are  none  in  the 
barn." 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  nothing  to  hinder,"  he  answered, 
following  with  his  eyes  the  Doctor's  retreating  figure. 

It  was  full  a  minute  before  he  moved,  and  then,  while 
still  within  sight  of  the  lady,  he  only  lounged  along,  sing- 
ing in  a  low  but  perfectly  audible  voice,  a  verse  from 
one  of  the  old  psalms  then  only  used  in  New  England 
churches : 

"  Great  was  the  work,  the  neighbors  cried, 
And  owned  the  power  divine ; 
Great  was  the  wcrk,  my  heart  replied, 
And  be  the  glory  thine." 

It  was  impossible  for  the  Doctor  to  keep  his  co'unte- 
nance,  and  he  entered  the  dining-room  convulsed  with 


EPH.  67 

laughter,  only  to  find  his  wife,  as  far  as  her  sweet  temper 
would  allow,  in  a  violent  rage,  and  his  daughter  covered 
with  blushes. 

"  How  is  it  possible,  Doctor,"  said  his  wife,  "  you  can 
permit  such  familiarity  towards  you  !  It  all  comes  from 
your  persisting  in  remaining  in  this  little  country  town, 
where  neither  your  talents  nor  your  character  have  free 
scope.  If  I  had  had  my  way,  you  would  have  been  as 
prominent  in  your  line  as  our  neighbor,  Mr.  Hamilton,  is 
in  his ! " 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  Doctor  gently,  "  no  one  loves  or 
admires  Mr.  Hamilton  more  than  I  do  :  no  one  envies  him 
less.  As  for  the  '  familiarity,'  as  you  call  it  of  that  boy,  it  is 
only  humor,  a  little  broad,  I  admit,  but  still  very  innocent. 
He  is  devoted  in  his  attachment  to  our  family,  and  I  am 
sure  we  all  feel  towards  him  as  if  he  were  in  reality  a  mem- 
ber of  it." 

"  Oh,  I  don't  deny,"  replied  Mrs.  Spencer,  "  that  Eph- 
raim  possesses  many  good  qualities,  but  I  find  fault  with 
his  excessive  familiarity." 

"  That,  my  dear,  is  one  of  the  consequences  of  our 
American  education.  You  can  never  make  them  servants. 
As  it  is,  he  does  the  work  of  three  men,  but  to  a  certain 
extent  license  of  speech  must  be  allowed." 

"  But  to  think,"  continued  Mrs.  Spencer,  "of  his  daring 
to  say  '  I  set  my  cap  for  Mr.  Hamilton  for  our  Sibyl  ? ' ' 

"  Well,  my  dear,  that  is  a  question  we  will  not  discuss, 
— I  fear  my  testimony  would  be  adverse  to  your  wishes." 

As  the  Doctor  uttered  this  last  sentence  he  left  the 
room,  exchanging  a  smile  with  his  daughter. 

There  was  a  pause,  during  which  Mrs.  Spencer  busied 


68  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

herself  in  washing  the  breakfast  things,  and  handed  them 
to  her  daughter  to  wipe  and  put  away. 

"  Dear  me,"  at  last  said  the  old  lady,  "  this  blue  set  is 
getting  terribly  broken.  There  are  hardly  plates  enough 
for  the  family  when  we  are  alone." 

"Yes,  mother,"  said  Sibyl,  evidently  thinking  of  far 
different  things  than  a  broken  set  of  old  India  china. 

"  I  wonder  if  your  father  could  not  get  one  of  those 
India  merchants  to  import  him  enough  to  complete  the  set?" 

"  I  greatly  fear,  mother,  that  we  shall  suffer  for  many 
things  much  more  necessary  than  India  china  if  this  war 
lasts,"  answered  Sibyl. 

"  Plague  take  the  war,  and  the  hateful  democrats  who 
brought  it  on.  You  know,  Sibyl,  I  always  intended  giving 
you  my  white  china,  with  the  gold  edges,  when  you  were 
married." 

"  Yes,  mother." 

"  It  is  as  handsome  as  any  I  have  ever  seen,  in  any  of 
the  grand  houses  in  New  Haven.  Ah,  me  ! "  she  con- 
tinued with  a  deep  sigh,  "  I  did  hope  to  see  my  daughter 
take  her  station  in  the  world,  but  I  must  submit." 

"  Mother,  dear  mother,"  said  Sibyl,  "  why  will  you  say 
those  things — why  do  you  wound  me  ?  " 

"  Wound  you  ?  what  is  there  to  wound  you,  in  saying 
that  I  had  hoped  to  see  you  take  a  high  station  in  society  ?  " 

"  Can  you  not  feel  how  sad  it  makes  me,  to  think,  that 
when  I  am  about  to  marry  the  man  I  love,  my  mother  harps 
on  other  plans  as  chimerical  as  the  hues  of  the  rainbow." 

"  Chimerical  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Spencer;  "  I  am  not  so  sure  of 
that,  Sibyl.  I  believe  you  had  only  to  say  yes  and  you 
would  have  been  the  first  lady  in  the  State." 


EPH.  69 

"  But,  mother,  admitting  you  may  be  right,"  answered 
her  daughter  blushing  deeply,  "  would  you  have  me  marry 
a  man  no  matter  how  much  I  might  admire  and  respect 
him,  whom  I  do  not  love  ? " 

"  Well,  now,  Sibyl,  that  is  the  very  point  with  which  I 
find  fault ;  no,  not  fault,  but  which  I  am  sorry  about ;  why 
did  you  not  love  him  ?  I  am  sure  he  is  a  man  everybody 
must  admire." 

"  Answer  me  one  question,  mother — When  you  mar- 
ried father,  was  it  only  because  you  admired  him  ?  " 

"  Why,  you  foolish  child,  your  father  and  I  loved  one 
another  when  we  were  little  children." 

Mrs.  Spencer  brightened,  as  the  memories  of  past  days 
came  freshly  to  her. 

"  Your  father,  my  dear,  was  even  then  a  remarkable  man 
— I  may  say  he  was  so  before  he  became  one." 

Carried  away  as  she  was  by  her  enthusiasm,  it  was 
impossible  for  Sibyl  to  resist  a  smile  at  the  naivete  of  her 
mother's  remark. 

"  And  now,  mother,  would  you,  with  all  these  sweet 
memories  clustering  around  you,  would  you  have  me  sacri- 
fice such  as  these  for  the  paltry  ambition  of  an  exalted 
station  in  society  ?  There  is  a  higher,  there  is  a  nobler  life, 
one  in  which  self  is  forgotten — one  in  which  all  the  secret 
feelings  of  the  heart  become  to  us  plain  realities  ;  one, 
mother,  which  you  must  know — one  you  have  felt.  You 
must  have  heard — " 

"  I  should  think  I  had,"  interrupted  the  old  lady.  "  Do 
you  think  I  have  been  married  almost  thirty  years,  to  the 
greatest  divine  in  New  England,  and  have  heard  him 
preach  morning  and  evening  every  Sabbath  day,  and  do 


7O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

not  know  something  about  a  higher  life  ?  Why  you  must 
take  me  for  a  fool ! " 

"  Oh  !  I  mean  more  than  that." 

"  More  than  Heaven,  child  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not,  dear  mother,  nothing  can  be  higher 
than  where  God  sits.  But  I  mean  a  higher  life  here  on 
earth.  A  life  in  which  objective  thoughts,  and  hopes  and 
fears,  are  lost  and  buried  in  the  deep  subjective  of  the 
future." 

"  Not  meaning  to  interrupt  you,  Sibyl,  if  that  boy 
Ephraim  has  not  brought  home  those  eggs,  I  shall  not  be 
able  to  make  that  custard  for  dinner  ;  and  I  should  not 
like  to  let  Edward  think  I  neglect  him,  and  you  remember 
how  much  he  has  always  liked  my  custard." 

As  she  said  this,  the  old  lady,  who  was  deeply  learned 
in  objective  things,  bustled  out  of  the  room,  leaving  her 
daughter,  half  inclined  to  laugh  and  half  to  cry.  Left 
alone,  Sibyl  drew  her  chair  by  the  open  window,  and  gazed 
over  the  long  meadows,  sleeping  in  the  hazy  light  of  the 
summer  morning.  Ardent,  enthusiastic,  poetic  in  her 
nature,  she  felt  all  the  longing  which  such  a  nature  must 
feel,  to  have  a  second  self,  into  which  she  could  breathe  as 
it  were,  the  undeveloped  thoughts  and  feelings  of  her  own 
heart.  How  long  she  had  sat  there,  she  did  not  know, 
when  a  low  voice  said  in  her  ear, 

"  Why,  lovely  infidel,  how  now, 

What  clouds  that  unbelieving  brow  ?  " 

Edward  had  approached  quietly  the  window  by  which 
she  was  seated,  and  leaning  his  arms  on  the  side  was  within 


EPH.  7 1 

a  foot  of  her,  without  her  knowledge,  so  absorbed  was  her 
reverie. 

"  No,  Edward,"  she  said  with  a  start,  "  I  am  no  infidel, 
in  any  thing  which  concerns  faith,  or  love,  or  trust  in  you. 
I  was  only  dreaming,  dreaming  in  the  very  ecstasy  of  my 
own  happiness." 

"  And  what  was  '  Love's  young  dream  ? ' — make  me  a 
sharer  in  your  thoughts  ? " 

Sibyl  passed  her  hand  caressingly  over  her  lover's 
brown  curls,  as  she  said : 

"  Have  you  never,  dear,  in  listening  to  one  of  those  old 
symphonies  I  am  so  fond  of  playing,  felt  as  if  there  was 
a  something  which  you  could  not  put  in  words,  which  no 
language  could  interpret,  something  higher,  holier,  deeper 
than  any  expression  of  man  ?  So  it  has  been  with  me,  ever 
since  you  told  me  that  you  loved  me.  I  have  felt  as  if 
the  deep  yearning  of  my  woman's  nature  had  become 
strengthened,  and  that  I  should  seek  to  lose  myself,  and 
become  only  centred  and  bound  up,  now  and  forever,  in 
you  and  you  only." 

"  Sibyl,  my  own  darling,  it  is  most  charming  to  have 
you  tell  me  such  things.  I  do  not  know  what  you  mean 
by  secret  sympathies  or  unspoken  language  ;  but  I  do  know 
that  I  love  you  as  my  very  self.  I  could  stand  all  day  and 
look  into  those  sweet  brown  eyes,  hold  this  little  soft  white 
hand,  and  whisper  only  '  I  love.'  But,  dearest,  you  are 
too  poetical  for  a  nature  like  mine." 

"  Oh,  no,  Edward  !  "  said  Sibyl  bending  down  until  her 
cheek  touched  that  of  her  lover,  "  it  is  not  poetry,  it  is 
only  the  depth  of  a  woman's  love." 

How  much  longer  this  little  scene  might  have  lasted 


72  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

is  doubtful,  had  not  Ephraim  intruded  himself  into  the 
apartment.  There  was  something  very  comical  in  the 
bashful,  shy  way  in  which  the  usually  forward  young  man 
entered  the  room.  It  was  a  very  serious  duty  he  had 
come  to  perform.  He  had  not  as  yet  offered  his  congratu- 
lations to  either  Sibyl  or  Edward. 

';  You  see  now,  Ed.,  I  didn't  get  any  chance  to  say  no- 
thing to  either  of  you  yesterday,  and  I  couldn't  have  you 
think  you  were  neglected." 

Sibyl  blushed  deeply  as  she  turned  and  held  out  her 
hand  to  the  young  man. 

"  I  felt  certain,  Eph.,  we  had  a  friend  in  you,  who  would 
sympathize  in  our  happiness.  Believe  me,  there  is  no  one 
whose  congratulations  give  me  more  pleasure." 

"  I  ain't  much  at  making  fine  speeches,  Sibyl,  but  I  have 
lived  pretty  much  in  this  house,  like  my  own  father's.  That 
wouldn't  be  saying  much,  you  see,  as  I've  taken  care  of  the 
old  man  for  ten  years  ;  but  I  do  hope  God  will  bless  you 
and  yours." 

Rough  peasant  as  he  was,  Edward  had  never  wrung  a 
more  honest  hand. 

But  there  was  something  more  to  be  said,  there  was  a 
question  to  be  met,  far  more  serious,  and  one  which 
Ephraim's  prosaic  nature  appreciated  keenly. 

"Ned,  you  see,  I  don't  think  when  any  thing  important's 
to  be  done,  that  the  wife  should  not  be  consulted,  and  I 
look  upon  our  Sibyl  now,  as  standing  in  that  relation  to 
you,  as  much  as  if  you  had  been  called  three  times." 

Edward  laughed  as  he  answered,  "  You  are  quite  right, 
Sibyl  does  and  will  stand  in  that  relation  as  long  as  life 
doth  last." 


EPH.  73 

Eph.  drew  a  chair  to  the  window  and  seating  himself, 
bent  over  so  that  his  head  was  close  to  those  of  the  two 
young  people,  as  he  spoke  in  a  low  but  very  solemn  tone — 

"  Ye  see,  when  I  went  over  to  the  store  to  get  them 
eggs  for  madam.  I  found  there  had  been  a  kind  of  meeting 
of  the  young  men  last  evening.  I  suppose  you  didn't  know 
nothing  about  it,  as  you  two  were  walking  in  the  long 
meadow  in  the  moonshine — did  ye  ? " 

"  How  did  you  know  any  tiling  if  you  were  watching  us 
so  closely  ?  "  said  Edward  angrily. 

"  Now  don't  get  riled  ;  you  see  they  sent  me  word 
they  wanted  me  to  act  as  moderator  like  ;  but  I  kinder 
thought  I  would  see  how  the  cat  jumped  first.  Well,  the 
long  and  the  short  of  it  is,  that  they  are  going  to  send  a 
committee  to  ax  you  if  you  will  command  a  company,  if 
the  boys  engage  to  enlist  for  the  war." 

Sibyl  grew  ghastly  pale,  and  her  hands  clasped  them- 
selves convulsively  together  as  they  lay  in'  her  lap. 

Edward  felt  that  the  crisis  of  his  life  was  at  hand. 

"  Well,  my  dear  fellow,  you  know  as  well  as  I,  that  if 
they  enlist,  the  government  will  muster  them  in  any  regi- 
ment it  pleases,  without  regard  to  wishes  or  feelings." 

"  You.  see,  now,"  continued  Ephraim,  "  that  is  jist  the 
p'int — we  ain't  a-going  to  serve  either  under  a  southern 
chap  nor  under  a  dimmicrat  nuther." 

"What  earthly  objection  can  you  have,"  interrupted 
Edward,  "  to  an  officer  being  a  democrat  in  politics  ?" 

"  Well,  we  won't  discuss  it,"  said  the  other  with  a  motion 
of  his  hand.  "  Most  generally  they  prefer  to  serve  in  the 
"  home  guards."  But  as  to  them  southerners,  when  that 
'ere  chap  said  in  Congress, '  The  north  should  find  the  men, 


74  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  the  south  the  officers  to  command  them,'  we  kinder 
thought  we  would  show  them  there  was  some  of  the  old 
stock  left  in  Connecticut  yet." 

"  Well,  Eph.,  if  a  commission[can  be  had,"  said  Edward 
slowly,  and  without  raising  his  eyes  to  Sibyl's,  "  I  think 
they  have  placed  me  in  a  position  from  which  a  man  can- 
not retire  with  honor.  What  do  you  intend  doing  ?  " 

"  Pretty  much  what  you  does.  Ye  see,  when  we  three 
trained  in  that  field,  you  was  always  captain,  Sibyl  carried 
the  flag,  and  I  beat  the  drum — guess  I'll  stick  to  rny 
colors." 

"  And  you,  Sibyl — you,  my  darling,  what  do  you  say  ? " 
asked  Edward,  taking  the  little  soft  white  hand  in  his,  and 
pressing  it  to  his  lips. 

Sibyl's  voice  choked  in  her  effort  to  keep  down  the  sobs 
that  would  come. 

"  Go,  Edward — go,my  love,  my  husband,  if  duty  or  honor 
call.  But  oh  !  Gracious  Father,  hold  him  in  Thy  keeping ; 
or  if  he  must  fall  a  sacrifice  on  his  country's  altar — wash 
him  pure  in  the  '  deep  Jordan  of  Thy  Love ! '  " 


CHAPTER  VII. 


WAR   OR   PEACE. 

"  All  that  a  sister  State  should  do,  all  that  a  free  State  may, 
Heart,  hand  and  purse  we  proffer,  as  in  our  early  day ; 
But  that  one  dark,  loathsome  burden  ye  must  stagger  with  alone, 
And  reap  the  bitter  harvest  which  ye  yourselves  have  sown." 

WHITTIER. 

YEAR  had  elapsed.  The  regiment  to  which 
Edward  Mason  was  attached  was  stationed  on 
the  Canada  line  near  the  head  of  Lake  Cham- 
plain.  So  far  his  company  had  been  kept  to- 
gether, and,  save  a  few  trifling  skirmishes,  had  seen  little 
or  no  active  service.  He  had  benefited  in  no  slight  de- 
gree by  this  period  of  inaction,  for  he  had  devoted  himself 
to  the  study  of  his  new  profession,  and  had  the  reward  of 
knowing  that  the  soldiers  of  his  company  were  better 
drilled  and  more  orderly  than  any  in  the  division. 

Congress  had  made  a  second  call  for  troops,  and  the 
administration,  still  untaught  by  the  blunders  of  a  previous 
year,  had  again  attempted  in  New  England  the  ruinous 
policy  of  drafting  the  militia  into  the  regular  army.  The 
passions  of  the  people  were  again  lashed  into  fury,  and 
dark  threats  broke  out  of  separate  and  divided  action  on 
the  part  of  the  New  England  States,  supported  as  they 
were  strongly  by  both  New  Jersey  and  New  York.  Ed- 
ward Mason,  to  his  surprise,  was  ordered  to  report  to  the 

(75) 


76  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

commanding  officer  in  New  York  city,  and  was  allowed  a 
few  days'  leave  of  absence,  which  he  improved  by  spending 
a  night  at  D . 

He  was  shocked  to  see  the  effect  which  so  short  a  time 
had  produced  in  his  old  and  respected  friend.  Dr.  Spen- 
cer, although  still  but  little  over  sixty,  was  very  feeble,  a 
disease  but  little  understood  by  the  medical  skill  of  the 
day  having  attacked  the  vital  functions.  It  required  no 
experienced  eye  to  foresee  that  unless  some  unexpected 
change  should  take  place,  his  days  were  numbered. 

Even  Sibyl's  joy  at  again  seeing  her  lover  hardly  ex- 
ceeded that  of  the  Doctor.  His  voice  trembled,  his  eyes 
filled  with  tears,  as  he  clasped  the  young  man's  hand  and 
gazed  at  him  long  and  lovingly. 

"  I  hardly  dared  to  hope  that  I  should  see  you  again, 
my  son.  My  heart  is  too  full  for  utterance.  I  can  only 
praise  God's  holy  name." 

The  deep  interest  which  Dr.  Spencer  took  in  all  that 
related  to  the  progress  of  the  war,  and  the  many  questions 
he  asked  about  the  various  movements  of  the  troops,  soon 
exhausted  his  strength,  and  Edward  left  him  to  the  care  of 
his  wife. 

Sibyl's  nature  was  too  concentrated  to  allow  her  to  be 
very  demonstrative,  but  there  was  a  light  in  her  eyes,  a 
tremulous  softness  in  the  clasp  of  her  hand,  which  spoke  a 
language  the  heart  soon  learns  to  read.  It  was  inexpres- 
sibly sweet  to  wander  under  the  big  elms  hour  after  hour, 
to  see  the  light  of  love  beam  in  the  eyes  of  the  girl  who 
clung  to  his  arm,  to  feel  so  well  that  which  words  can  never 
tell.  It  was  with  a  start  that  the  lovers  awoke  to  find 
that  the  long  summer  day  had  been  all  too  short. 


WAR    OR    PEACE.  77 

Deacon  Knapp  had  heard  of  Edward's  arrival,  and, 
anxious  to  see  him,  had  walked  over  with  his  son-in-law  to 
the  parsonage. 

Sally  had  been  married  more  than  a  year,  and  had  set- 
tled down  as  a  sober  matron. 

A  little  scion  of  the  house  of  Griswold  made  the  old 
homestead  resound  with  his  cries,  and  was  the  delight  of 
his  grandfather. 

Griswold  himself  was  restless  and  uneasy.  A  sailor 
never  entirely  shakes  off  that  love  of  adventure  and  excite- 
ment which  soon  becomes  his  second  nature.  This  feeling 
was  increased  in  the  young  man  by  the  ovations  which  his 
townsmen  and  fellow-sailors  were  everywhere  receiving  for 
their  successes  on  the  ocean.  Fond  and  happy  with  his 
wife,  an  honest,  industrious,  true-hearted  man,  still  he 
longed  to  make  one  of  the  brave  band  who  were  carrying 
their  country's  flag  in  triumph.  His  wife  saw  all  this  with 
the  quick  eye  of  a  woman  who  loves,  saw  it  and  sighed, 
but  felt  she  was  powerless  to  resist. 

To  her  astonishment  she  found  her  father  shared  in  his 
feelings.  It  was  not  in  the  Deacon's  nature  to  speak,  but 
every  time  an  account  came  of  another  victory,  he  looked 
at  his  son-in-law  as  if  wondering  he  could  remain  at  home. 

Griswold  chafed  under  it  like  a  chained  lion. 

"  Now,  Edward,  my  boy,"  said  the  Deacon,  as  the  two 
entered  the  room  in  which  tea  was  being  prepared,  "you've 
come  back  to  us,  have  ye  ?  Ye  didn't  do  much  up  on  the 
Canada  line,  but  you  were  in  the  way  of  trying,  and  that's 
something." 

"  No,"  answered  Edward  with  a  laugh,  warmly  shaking 
the  old  man's  hand  j  "  we  certainly  have  not  covered  our- 


78  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

selves  with  glory  there,  but  at  any  rate  we  were  willing  to 
try,  as  you  say." 

"  Well,  that's  something, — praise  the  Lord  !  "  muttered 
the  old  man.  "  There's  no  knowing  what  may  happen  if 
you  keep  on  in  that  way. ' 

"  Edward  tells  me,"  said  Dr.  Spencer,  "  that  the  great 
difficulty  lies  in  the  want  of  organization  in  every  depart- 
ment— the  utter  absence  of  any  head.  That  it  is  not  so 
much  the  want  of  military  skill  as  of  a  firm  and  controll- 
ing hand." 

"  Tell  now,"  said  the  Deacon,  taking  up  his  leg  and 
nursing  it  fondly ;  "  I  had  heard  ye  didn't  get  your  supplies 
regular." 

"  Supplies,"  said  Edward,  "  we  had  an  abundance  of 
every  thing  we  did  not  need,  and  frequently  a  total  absence 
of  the  barest  necessaries  of  life.  Do  you  know,  sir,"  turn- 
ing to  Dr.  Spencer,  "  the  day  before  I  left,  a  train  of  wag- 
ons reached  Chateaugay,  where  my  regiment  is  encamped 
in  the  midst  of  an  almost  primeval  forest,  laden  with  tent 
poles,  and  they  had  brought  them  all  the  way  from  Wash- 
ington. Tent  poles,  and  there  was  not  flour  or  pork 
enough  in  camp  to  feed  the  division  for  a  week." 

"  People  say,"  said  Griswold,  "  that  our  new  secretary, 
General  Armstrong,  is  a  thoroughly  educated  soldier. 
Perhaps  he  can  bring  order  out  of  this  chaos." 

"  Heaven  knows  it  is  wanted,"  replied  the  other.  "  It 
is  no  breach  of  military  duty  to  say  that  every  general  in 
the  army  is  at  loggerheads  with  the  other — that  there  is  no 
discipline  nor,  what  is  even  more  needed,  no  good  morals 
among  the  commanders." 

"  It  is  sad,"  said  the  Doctor,  "  to  be  obliged  to  sit  still 


WAR    OR    PEACE.  79 

and  see  evil  counsels  and  intriguing  politicians  sap  the 
foundations  of  '  Time's  noblest  empire.'  " 

"  Well,  you  see  now,  Doctor,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  this 
all  comes  of  forgetting  the  service  of  the  Lord.  I'm  not 
going  to  say  any  thing  ag'in  the  constituted  authorities. 
They're  sot  over  us  in  the  flesh,  and  we're  bound  to  give 
them  honor.  But  this  I  do  say,  when  we  see  a  large  pro- 
portion of  the  people  bowing  down  to  Belial  and  worship- 
ping the  man  of  sin,  a-willing  to  be  bound  to  the  chariot 
wheels  of  this  Bonaparte,  I  feel  as  if  the  blood  of  the  men 
who  testified  before  the  council  and  in  the  field — the  men 
who  came  over  here  when  this  was  nothing  better  than  a 
howling  wilderness,  rather  than  acknowledge  the  'scarlet 
woman  ' — would  like  to  burst  in  my  veins." 

"  Why,  Deacon,"  said  Griswold,  "  I  never  heard  you 
say  such  things  before." 

"  Nor  would  you  now,  my  son,  but  there  is  a  p'int  where 
human  nature  can't  stand  these  things  no  longer  and  keep 
silence." 

"  Dr.  Spencer  " — the  old  man  was  excited,  but  there  was 
something  grand  in  the  very  intensity  of  his  nature,  and  in 
the  strong  feelings  which  had  now  broken  down  the  re- 
serve of  a  lifetime — "  Dr.  Spencer,  my  religion  and  my 
education  have  made  me  a  law-abiding  citizen.  In  my 
humble  way  I  helped  to  build  up  this  country ;  I  shed 
my  blood  at  Brandy  wine,  and  at  the  Cow  Pens,  to  strike 
at  tyranny  in  high  places.  I  would  shed  it  now,  to  the 
last  drop,  if  the  cause  was  a  just  one.  It  was  freedom 
then  we  fought  for — is  it  for  freedom  we  are  asked  now 
to  give  our  children  and  our  money  ? " 

"  Hush  !  hush,  my  old  friend,"    said  the  Doctor,  "  such 


8o  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

men  as  you  must  not  speak,  nay,  not  even  cultivate 
such  doctrines  in  times  like  these.  Our  rulers  may  not 
be  such  as  we  would  have  chosen,  but  they  are  our 
rulers.  This  country  is  our  country,  not  sectional,  but  one 
common  heritage :  would  you  divide  and  break  up  into 
factions  what  should  be  a  common  unit  ?  " 

"  Deacon  Knapp,"  said  Griswold,  "  I  am  your  son-in- 
law  ;  I  returned  here  a  poor  broken-down  sailor ;  you  gave 
me  your  daughter,  your  home  has  been  my  home,  your  fire- 
side my  fireside.  In  politics  as  in  religion  I  agree  with 
you,  but  by  the  God  of  my  fathers,  the  bright  flag  of  my 
country  shall  not  be  torn  down !  I  can  stand  this  no 
longer.  Right  or  wrong,  I  enter  the  service  to-morrow." 

"  Well,  now,  Sammy,"  replied  the  Deacon  growing  calm 
and  speaking  in  his  natural  tone,  "you  don't  astonish 
me  much.  I  have  been  a  kind  of  wondering  you  haven't 
been  there  before.  I  know  it's  hard  to  leave  our  Sally, 
not  to  speak  of  the  boy.  But  it's  nature  in  us  Yankees,  as 
those  southern  chaps  call  us,  to  strike  for  the  flag." 

"  But,  Deacon  Knapp,"  said  Sibyl,  speaking  for  the 
first  time  since  she  had  entered  the  room,  "  is  there  not  a 
battle-field  into  which  age  can  enter,  and  in  which  even 
women  can  play  their  part  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  quite  take  your  meaning,  child,"  replied  the 
Deacon. 

"  I  mean,"  said  the  girl  flushing  with  the  excitement  of 
the  moment,  "  is  there  not  here  at  home,  here  in  the  quiet 
villages  of  New  England,  a  contest  going  on,  far  more 
dangerous  to  the  future  of  our  country  than  any  which 
stains  with  blood  the  fields  of  Canada  ?  Is  there  not,  I  ask 
you  at  this  moment,  an  effort  being  made  to  separate  the 


WAR    OR    PEACE.  8 1 

New  England  States  from  the  common  country  ?  And  is  it 
not  our  duty-,  the  duty  of  all,  weak  helpless  women,  of  you 
old  men,  of  infancy  itself,  to  resist  this  impulse,  to  give  our- 
selves and  all  we  possess  to  the  cause  of  our  country,  and 
•  to  support  this  war,  even  though  we  know  it  to  be  a  wicked 
and  an  unholy  war  ?  " 

"  She  speaks  truly,  Deacon,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  The 
resolutions  which  have  passed  the  houses  of  assembly,  the 
tone  of  our  State  rulers  themselves,  honest,  patriotic  men 
as  I  believe  them  to  be,  this  determination  to  abide  by  the 
law,  but  only  by  the  letter  of  the  law,  all  shows  that  a 
crisis  is  at  hand." 

"  Well,"  answered  the  other,  "  I  expect  you're  right ; 
more  than  that,  I  know  you're  right.  But  now  doesn't  it 
strike  you  as  a  little  hard,  that  we  New  Englanders — we 
that  gave  five  men  in  the  Revolution  to  every  one  the 
south  gave — we  that  pay  at  this  minute  more  than  one  half 
the  taxes — we,  and  the  Yorkers  who  feel  as  we  do,  at  least 
the  best  of  'em  do,  that  we  should  be  plunged  into  war  with 
a  country  we  love,  with  a  people  as  has  the  same  religion, 
as  reads  the  same  books,  as  has  the  same  laws,  whose 
fathers  were  our  fathers,  whose  names  are  our  names,  to 
say  nothing  of  our  manners  and  customs.  I  ask  you  now, 
if  it  isn't  a  little  hard  to  keep  up  a  Christian  feeling  in  our 
breasts  ! " 

"  My  dear  old  friend,"  said  Dr.  Spencer,  "  there  is  at  the 
bottom  of  this  Union  of  ours,  lying  far  down  in  its  very 
foundations,  a  curse,  a  weakness,  to  which  even  the  lion- 
hearted  men  who  framed  our  constitution  were  subservient, 
and  it  must  be  worked  out.  I  mean  slavery.  For  the 
moment,  I  waive  its  inhumanity,  its  wickedness  (for  it  is 

6 


82  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

wicked,  and  God  will  curse  it !),  but  view  it  in  a  political 
point  only — it  cannot  be  that  a  nation  of  freemen  will 
permit  themselves  to  be  ruled  and  governed  by  the  slave 
vote." 

"Do  you  not  think,"  said  Edward,  "  that  this  question  of, 
slave   representation   is  at  the  bottom  of  all  the  political 
movements  which  have  agitated  this  country  for  the  last 
twenty  years  ? " 

"  I  do  my  boy — I  know  it  has  been  the  one  solitary 
point  to  which  the  South,  as  a  mass,  have  most  tenaciously 
clung.  At  this  moment  it  is  bringing  sorrow  and  suffering 
into  a  thousand  peaceful  families,  but  like  all  wrongs,  and 
it  is  a  great  wrong,  it  is  working  its  own  cure." 

"  The  ways  of  Providence,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  are  not 
man's  ways,  nor  can  we  find  them  out.  But  in  my  poor 
judgment  there  is  but  little  good  in  letting  every  man  who 
owns  three  niggers  have  one  more  vote  than  I  have,  simply 
because  he  owns  those  niggers." 

"  Are  we  not  begging  the  question,"  said  Sibyl.  "  It  is 
not  the  slave  vote  which  is  wrong,  but  slavery  itself.  Can 
an  Infinite  and  good  God  hear  unmoved  the  wail  of  the 
meanest  of  his  creatures  ?  " 

"  My  child,"  said  the  old  Pastor  rising  in  his  chair, 
"  as  long  as  man's  greed  and  selfishness  can  be  gratified, 
so  long  will  he  look  unmoved  on  any  scene  of  suffering. 
Our  New  England  merchants  furnished  ships  and  capital 
for  the  slave  trade  ;  the  free  States  at  this  moment  send 
out  thousands  of  adventurers  to  make  new  plantations  all 
over  the  south  to  be  worked  by  slave  labor.  As  long  as 
our  voice  was  supreme  in  the  councils  of  the  land,  just  so 
long  did  we  ignore  slavery  and  its  evils.  But  now  that  we 


WAR    OR    PEACE.  83 

are  in  the  minority — that  we  no  longer  stand  first  in  the 
land,  now  the  scales  have  fallen  from  our  eyes  and  we  see 
the  light  of  truth  even  as  blind  Bartimaeus  saw  it  as  he 
sat  by  the  way-side  begging." 

"  I  admit  all  you  say,  my  dear  sir,"  said  Edward,  "and  I 
assert  further,  that  here,  where  education  exists — here  in  the 
midst  of  this  free  people — here  where  to  labor  is  to  be  re- 
spected and  to  be  idle  is  a  disgrace,  a  sentiment  is  growing 
hourly  in  the  breasts  of  the  people  themselves,  which  will 
never  be  silenced,  until  the  curse  of  slavery  is  extinguished 
in  every  section  of  the  land." 

"  God  grant  it !  "  said  the  Doctor,  "  and  he  will  grant  it. 
I  am  a  feeble  man ;  some  inward  voice  tells  me  I  am  not 
to  be  long  on  earth.  Perhaps  it  may  be  in  the  spirit  of 
prophecy  that  I  now  speak  ;  but  I  firmly  believe  that,  as 
the  God  of  Abraham,  by  the  hand  of  his  servant  Moses, 
brought  his  chosen  people  from  the  house  of  bondage,  just 
so  surely  will  He,  in  his  own  good  time,  rend  the  manacles 
from  the  Ethiopian's  outstretched  arms.  How  it  will  be 
done  He  only  knows — probably  in  blood,  in  misery  and 
war.  And  I  as  firmly  believe  what  we  now  suffer  is  but 
preparatory  to  what  we  shall  suffer  for  having  consented, 
aye,  weakly  consented,  to  the  enslaving  of  our  fellow-men." 


CHAPTER  VIII. 

A   PRISONER. 

"  The  moon  shone  down  on  old  Cro'  Nest, 
And  mellowed  the  shades  on  his  shaggy  breast ; 
And  seemed  his  giant  form  to  throw 
In  a  silver  cone  on  the  waves  below." — DRAKE. 

HE    duty    with   which    Edward    Mason    was 
charged  was  to  take  command  of  a  party  of 
recruits  destined   to  fill  up  the   vacancies   in 
his  own  regiment. 
Transportation  was  furnished  by  sloop  to  Albany,  and 
as  he  stood  on  the  deck  of  the  little  vessel  watching  the 
preparations  to  sail,  he  saw  his  old  friend  Mr.  Hamilton 
walking  down  the  dock  accompanied  by  a  stranger. 

The  greeting  between  Edward  and  the  celebrated  Con- 
necticut man  was  warm  and  friendly,  more  so  on  the  part 
of  the  older  than  of  the  younger  man. 

There  had  been  something  in  Sibyl's  manner  on  the 
day  when  we  first  introduced  her  to  our  readers,  a  day  on 
which  Edward  had,  as  it  were,  surprised  her  with  Mr. 
Hamilton,  which  had  aroused  a  strong  feeling  of  jealousy 
in  his  breast.  He  knew  it  to  be  unjust.  His  reason  and 
his  heart  told  him  he  was  the  sole  object  of  Sibyl's  love. 
But  the  passion  had  been  excited,  it  only  slumbered,  it  was 
not  dead. 

Mr.  Hamilton  noticed  the  reserve  on  the  young  man's 
(84) 


A    PRISONER.  85 

part  with  a  melancholy  smile.  Their  short  conversation 
was  soon  over,  and  he  again  turned  to  his  companion. 
They  talked  long  and  earnestly,  and  Edward  noticed  that 
he  himself  was  for  some  little  time  the  subject  of  their  re- 
marks. The  bustle  of  departure,  the  requirements  of  his 
duty,  most  of  the  recruits  being  drunk  and  many  dis- 
orderly, drove  the  circumstance  from  his  mind,  and  it  was 
not  until  late  in  the  evening,  just  as  the  sloop  was  entering 
the  Highlands,  that  chance  again  threw  him  into  close 
company  with  the  stranger.  The  latter  was  a  man  of 
about  forty,  strongly  built,  although  not  over  medium 
height,  with  an  intellectual  face,  deep,  serious,  melancholy 
eyes,  and  an  expression  of  great  firmness  about  his  mouth 
and  chin.  His  dress  was  the  ordinary  garb  of  a  civilian 
of  the  day.  Plain,  almost  too  plain,  and  yet  worn  as  if  not 
the  ordinary  dress  to  which  he  was  accustomed.  He  was 
seated  on  a  stool,  leaning  over  the  bulwarks  of  the  sloop, 
apparently  watching  the  shadowy  outlines  of  the  moun- 
tains just  being  brought  into  view  by  the  rising  moon. 
As  Edward  drew  near,  he  greeted  him  courteously  and 
motioned  him  to  take  a  seat  by  him. 

"  My  old  friend,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  he  said,  "  tells  me 
you  are  a  lawyer  by  profession,  a  strong  Federalist,  and  yet 
you  were  prompted  by  love  of  country  to  enter  the  army. 
How  do  you  like  your  new  life  ?  " 

"  As  much  as  I  have  seen  of  it,"  answered  Edward,  "  I 
must  frankly  say  I  detest." 

"  Well,"  said  the  other  with  a  haughty  laugh,  "  one 
would  not  say  you  were  the  stuff  out  of  which  to  make  a 
soldier." 

There  was  nothing  offensive  in  the  tone  in  which  this 


86  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

was  said,  but  Edward  could  not  help  a  feeling  of  annoy- 
ance. 

"  I  see  by  your  dress  that  you  are  not  a  soldier ;  but 
can  there  be  any  thing  very  agreeable  to  an  educated  man 
in  spending  all  his  days  in  the  minutiae  of  camp  life — 
half  of  his  time  passed  in  drilling  and  the  other  half  in 
superintending  the  clothes,  the  food,  even  the  personal 
cleanliness  of  a  set  of  men,  too  much  like  children  either 
to  think  or  act  for  themselves  ?  " 

"  Not  much,  I  admit,"  said  the  other ;  "  but  one  must 
commence  at  the  lowest  round  of  the  ladder,  before  one 
can  reach  the  top.  Thee  has  had  but  little  experience, 
I  presume,  with  any  thing  but  this  minutiae.  Has  thee 
ever  been  under  fire  ?  " 

"  Only  once,  and  then  but  for  a  moment,"  replied  Ed- 
ward, "  and  I  trust,  as  some  of  these  men  I  am  now  watch- 
ing are  coming  into  my  regiment,  I  may  have  time  to  break 
them  in  a  little  before  I  am  again  under  fire." 

"  They  are  not  a  bad  lot,"  said  the  other,  carelessly 
lighting  a  cigar  as  he  spoke. 

"  I  wish  they  were  all  Americans,"  said  Edward ;  "  the 
majority  of  them  are  Irish,  and  many  of  them  deserters 
from  English  regiments  into  the  bargain." 

"  So  I  supposed  as  I  looked  at  their  faces  and  way  of 
marching.  The  scoundrels  will  fight  none  the  better  for 
having  a  rope  round  their  necks." 

"  Will  England,"  asked  Edward,  "  carry  out  her  threat 
and  hang  all  deserters  she  captures  ? " 

"  Why  not,"  said  the  other  quickly;  "  would  we  not  do 
the  same  ?  Is  not  the  claim  put  forward  on  the  part  of 
our  government  that  this  war  is  fought  to  prevent  the 


A    PRISONER.  87 

impressment  of  American  seamen,  and  do  we  not,  by  so 
doing,  assert  the  right  not  only  to  protect,  but  to  command 
the  services  of  our  own  citizens  ?  Does  thee  think  Wash- 
ington would  have  hesitated  to  hang  the  traitor  '  Arnold,' 
had  he  fallen  in  his  power  ?  Thy  former  profession  should 
have  taught  thee  that  crime  is  the  same,  no  matter  what 
the  rank  of  the  offender." 

"  Certainly,"  said  Edward,  "  I  admit  the  truth  of  your 
argument.  My  question  was  more  directed  to  the  policy  of 
the  government  than  to  the  legal  right ;  and  I  now  ask, 
will  our  government  carry  out  its  threat  of  reprisals,  should 
the  English  general  hang  any  of  the  deserters  they  may 
recapture  in  arms  against  them  ?  " 

"  They  say  so,"  the  stranger  answered  ;  "  my  young 
acquaintance,  it  is  very  easy  for  men  who  sit  in  high  places 
to  issue  orders,  which  bring  them  into  no  personal  danger. 
Tell  me  now,  something  of  the  country  in  which  you  are 
stationed  ;  what  are  its  military  features,  and  what  its  re- 
sources ?  " 

As  Edward  sketched  rapidly  an  outline  of  the  Chateau- 
gay  country,-  his  companion  listened  with  deep  attention. 
His  questions  were  few  but  pertinent,  his  manner  calm 
and  commanding,  to  which  Edward  insensibly  yielded.  At 
times  he  would  relapse  into  the  Quaker  dialect,  yet  ev- 
idently he  was  any  thing  but  a  'man  of  peace.'  He  pointed 
out  to  Edward  the  beauties  of  the  river,  naming  headland 
after  headland  as  they  came  slowly  into  view,  clothing 
many  of  them  with  wild  Indian  legends,  or  quaint  old 
Dutch  story,  always  told  in  the  same  low,  soft  voice,  and 
with  the  same  calm,  concentrated  air.  He  repelled  any 
attempt  at  discovering  who  he  was,  and  baffled  Edward's 


88  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

most  ingenious  speculations.  The  faint  tinge  of  early 
dawn  was  breaking,  when  the  sloop  burst  as  it  were 
through  the  barrier  of  mountains  and  entered  Newburgh 
Bay.  When  opposite  that  then  thriving  little  village,  the 
vessel  was  brought  to,  and  her  only  boat  manned.  The 
captain  intimated  to  the  stranger  that  she  awaited  his 
orders. 

"  My  young  friend,"  he  said,  holding  out  his  hand  to 
Edward,  "  we  may  meet  again ;  should  such  ever  happen, 
remember  you  have  made  a  friend  of  Jacob  Brown." 

The  rest  of  Edward's  voyage  presented  nothing  re- 
markable. 

Almost  immediately  after  joining  his  regiment,  a  for- 
ward movement  was  ordered  in  the  direction  of  the  Canada 
line. 

The  division  to  which  he  belonged  was  under  the  im- 
mediate command  of  Major-General  Hampton,  a  gentle- 
man by  birth  and  a  native  of  South  Carolina.  General 
Hampton  had  served  with  credit  in  the  Revolutionary 
war,  but  age  and  long  inactivity  had  unfitted  him  for  active 
duty.  The  entire  force  was  four  thousand  effective  infan- 
try and  a  well  equipped  train  of  artillery. 

The  order  to  move  was  hailed  with  joy,  and  to  Ed- 
waVd's  regiment  was  given  the  privilege  of  the  advance 
guard.  The  first  day's  march  was  extremely  severe,  being 
twenty-four  miles,  but  it  brought  them  to  an  open  country, 
and  almost  within  striking  distance  of  the  enemy  under 
General  Prevost.  Edward  was  in  command  of  the  advance 
guard,  and  had  been  so  fortunate  as  to  capture  several 
prisoners,  whom  he  sent  into  head-quarters.  From  the 
men  so  taken,  he  learned  that  the  enemy  barely  numbered 


A    PRISONER.  89 

twenty-four  hundred,  and  were  mostly  Canadian  militia. 
Night  closed  in  on  the  little  army,  hopeful  and  sanguine  of 
success.  Before  them  was  the  city  of  Montreal,  masters  of 
that,  they  divided  the  province.  At  this  point,  General 
Hampton  determined  to  send  one  brigade,  under  Colonel 
Purdy,  to  the  west  of  the  Chateaugay  river,  a  small  stream, 
with  orders  to  gain  a  ford  eight  miles  below,  then  recross 
and  attack  the  British  commander  in  the  rear,  while  the 
other  brigade,  under  his  own  supervision,  should  attack  in 
front.  This  united  effort  was  to  have  been  made  at  day- 
break, and  Edward  received  orders  to  hold  his  company 
and  one  other  that  had  been  joined  to  his,  in  readiness  to 
advance  in  front  in  open  order  as  skirmishers,  the  signal 
being  the  sound  of  firing  on  his  left.  Hour  after  hour 
passed,  noon  came,  and  still  no  signs  of  Colonel  Purdy  or 
his  brigade.  A  few  useless  shots  had  been  fired  during 
the  morning  between  the  pickets,  but  these  had  ceased. 

At  this  time  General  Izzard,  the  second  in  command, 
rode  up,  and  closely  questioned  Edward  as  to  what  had  oc- 
curred in  front.  It  was  soon  told.  Nothing ;  absolutely 
nothing. 

"Take  a  dozen  men  with  you,  Captain  Mason,  and  go 
carefully  forward,  to  feel  if  the  enemy  are  still  in  our  front. 
Be  careful  ;  and  send  back  word  from  time  to  time." 

"  Shall  I  hold  the  ground  I  make,  or  fall  back  ?"  asked 
Edward. 

"  Hold  it,  if  possible,  we  will  support  you  ;  but  do  not 
go  more  than  a  mile." 

Edward  saluted,  chose  the  men  from  his  company,  and 
advanced  cautiously.  Every  thing  was  as  quiet  as  the  grave ; 
not  a  sign  of  the  enemy.  The  birds  twittered  on  the 


9O  SIBYL   SPENCER, 

branches  of  the  trees,  and  the  landscape  slumbered  in  all 
the  beauty  of  an  October  afternoon. 

After  walking  rather  more  than  a  mile,  Edward  halted 
his  little  band,  and  sent  one  of  the  most  intelligent  men  to 
the  rear  with  his  report.  The  men  had  scattered  a  little 
through  the  immediate  vicinity,  and  Edward  seated  himself 
on  the  trunk  of  a  fallen  tree  to  watch.  Hour  after  hour 
passed  ;  the  silence  was  unbroken. 

Suddenly,  in  his  front  and  on  both  flanks  came  the 
sound  of  bugles,  sounding  a  charge.  He  called  in  his 
men,  and  fell  back  a  little,  waiting  some  further  advance 
by  the  enemy. 

Again  the  same  silence  ;  another  hour  passed,  then 
another,  when  the  same  sound  of  bugles  again  broke  the 
stillness  of  the  night.  Three  times  was  this  mysterious 
mode  of  warfare  repeated,  and  yet  not  one  human  being 
had  he  either  seen  or  heard. 

The  long  night  passed.  The  men  had  with  them  rations 
for  several  days,  and  made  themselves  as  comfortable  as 
they  could,  under  the  circumstances.  Edward  did  not  dare 
to  light  any  fires. 

When  morning  broke,  the  sound  of  sharp  firing  was 
heard  in  the  rear,  between  his  post  and  the  main  body. 
Although  his  orders  were  to  hold  the  ground  he  had  ob- 
tained, he  still  determined  to  take  the  responsibility  of 
falling  back  a  short  distance  towards  his  supports.  He 
fell  back  ;  no  sign  of  a  friend,  and  still  the  firing  continued 
with  more  and  more  severity. 

Further  and  further  Edward  marched  ;  there  were  no 
supports,  there  was  no  army.  He  had  been  forgotten,  and 
he  and  his  little  party  were  alone  in  the  wilderness.  Which 


A    PRISONER.  91 

way  should  he  go  ?  Between  him  and  his  regiment  there 
was  evidently  a  strong  body  of  the  enemy,  and  he  was  un- 
der the  impression  that  they  had  advanced  round  his -right 
flank.  He  therefore  determined  to  fall  back,  where  he 
supposed  Colonel  Purdy's  brigade  to  be.  The  way  was 
almost  impracticable.  Swamp  succeeded  swamp  in  endless 
succession.  Just  at  nightfall  he  perceived  a  strong  body 
of  men.  Were  they  friends  or  foes  ? 

Advancing  alone,  very  cautiously,  he  thought  he  distin- 
guished the  uniform  of  the  United  States'  soldiers ;  he 
could  not  be  mistaken. 

Suddenly  a  voice  called  to  him  to  halt.  He  was  covered 
by  a  dozen  muskets — he  was  a  prisoner.  Edward's  first 
thought  was  for  his  men.  The  sergeant  with  him  was  our 
old  acquaintance  Eph.,  who  had  been  promoted  to  that 
rank,  and  Edward  felt  great  confidence  in  his  sagacity  and 
good  sense.  At  any  rate  he  could  do  nothing.  He  was  civilly 
treated, and  taken  before  the  commanding  officer,a  soldierly- 
looking  man  in  the  uniform  of  a  colonel  of  British  infantry- 

As  he  stood  in  front  of  this  officer  in  charge  of  a  guard, 
the  Colonel,  who  was  seated  on  a  log  in  front  of  a  small 
fire,  raised  his  eyes,  and  seeing  an  officer,  slightly  touched 
his  cap. 

"  Ah  !  a  prisoner.     Your  rank,  sir  ?  " 

"  Captain.  8th  infantry." 

"  How  came  you  in  our  rear  ?  " 

"  Commanded  the  advanced  pickets,  and  got  separated 
from  my  command." 

"  Will  you  join  me  in  some  spirits  and  water,"  said  the 
Colonel,  extending  a  glass,  and  pointing  to  a  bottle  which 
stood  near  his  feet. 


92  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Edward  gladly  consented.     He  was  faint  with  fatigue. 

"  Sit  down,"  continued  the  officer,  "  and  warm  yourself. 
Have  I  your  parole  ?  " 

Edward  nodded  ;  there  was  nothing  else  to  do. 

"  Your  commanding  officer  lost  his  head.  Did  you  hear 
my  bugles  ?  Sharp,  was  it  not  ?  "  and  he  laughed  until  the 
tears  stood  in  his  eyes.  At  length  he  said,  "  Let  me  pre- 
sent myself — Lieut.-Col.  de  Salsberry,  Brig.-Gen.  by  brevet, 
and  I  have  the  honor,  to  etc.,  etc." 

"  Captain  Edward  Mason." 

"  Captain  Mason,  regret  extremely,  etc.,  make  you  as 
comfortable   as   we   can,    under   the   circumstances.     No - 
doubt  one  of  these  young  gentlemen  will  play  host.     Now 
gentlemen,"  and  he  spoke  sharply,   "  something  else  to  be 
attended  to."  - 

Edward  took  the  hint,  and  drew  back.  The  young 
officer  to  whom  the  General  had  motioned,  a  fine  soldierly- 
looking  young  man,  gladly  shared  his  supper  with  him,  and 
with  his  feet  to  a  watch-fire,  and  the  stars  for  a  canopy, 
Edward  slept  until  the  coming  dawn  re-echoed  with  the 
martial  airs  of  England. 

He  was  then  sent  to  the  rear  of  the  army,  and  with 
some  few  other  prisoners,  marched  as  rapidly  as  possible  to 
a  point  on  the  St.  Lawrence  river,  almost  opposite  to  Mon- 
treal. 

As  Edward  stood  musing,  somewhat  apart  from  his 
fellow-prisoners,  carelessly  watching  the  preparations  made 
for  their  transportation,  his  arm  was  touched,  and  turning, 
he  saw  the  young  officer  who  had  treated  him  so  kindly 
the  preceding  evening. 

Mason  was  extremely  struck  with  his  appearance  and 


A    PRISONER.  93 

manners.  There  was  a  simplicity  in  his  air,  joined  to  a 
careless  negligence,  almost  amounting  to  indolence,  which 
was  different  from  any  thing  he  had  ever  before  seen. 

Captain  Charles  Harcourt,  for  such  was  his  name,  was 
about  Edward's  age.  He  was  considerably  above  medium 
height,  and  most  powerfully  built.  His  complexion  was 
almost  as  dark  as  that  of  a  Spaniard,  large  melancholy 
hazel  eyes,  a  mouth  denoting  great  strength  of  will,  clean- 
cut  features,  and  an  air  eminently  high-bred  and  aristo- 
cratic. He  wore  a  long  mustache  (most  unusual  at  that 
time),  which  was  dark  like  his  hair,  and  his  dress  was  the 
full  uniform  of  his  rank,  and  of  the  "  Guards,"  the  regiment 
to  which  he  belonged. 

"  I  have  permission  to  take  you  with  me,"  he  said, 
"  and  as  I  am  sent  to  Quebec  with  dispatches  for  Sir 
George,  you  will  find  travelling  with  me  more  pleasant,  I 
think,  than  marching  under  escort  with  the  rest." 

Edward  assented  gladly. 

"  Come  along,  then,"  continued  the  other,  "  and  I  will 
get  you  a  cup  of  coffee,  and  you  shall  share  my  luck  in 
the  way  of  meals."  As  he  spoke,  he  led  the  way  down  to 
the  river,  where  a  very  long  birch-bark  canoe,  manned  by 
eight  Canadian  voyageurs,  was  lying.  In  the  stern  of  the 
canoe  were  spread  several  blankets  and  army  cloaks, 
making  a  very  comfortable  half  couch,  half  seat. 

"  Make  yourself  comfortable,  we  have  a  long  journey 
before  us,"  said  Harcourt,  "  and  I  intend  making  myself 
quite  a  Yankee  before  we  get  to  Quebec."  The  men  at 
the  signal  pushed  into  the  stream,  and  the  light  little  ves- 
sel danced  on  the  surface  of  the  dark  St.  Lawrence.  Ed- 
ward caught  at  the  side  of  the  canoe,  and  held  his  breath, 


94  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

much  to  his  companion's  amusement,  who  laughed  heart- 
ily at  his  half-frightened,  half-confused  expression  of  coun- 
tenance. The  men  sat  facing  forward,  and  used  a  paddle 
instead  of  an  oar, — keeping  time  perfectly  and  half  rising 
to  each  stroke.  It  was  not  five  minutes  before  one  of 
them  broke  into  a  low  monotonous  song,  the  chorus  of 
which  was  chanted  by  his  companions.  The  language  the 
men  used  was  utterly  incomprehensible  to  Mason, — now 
and  then  he  could  catch  a  French  word,  but  the  song  was 
evidently  in  the  patois  of  the  country.  All  that  he  could 
understand  led  him  to  think  it  was  an  evening  song  to  the 
Virgin. 

"  One  of  the  partners  of  the  '  Hudson  Bay  Company' 
lent  me  this  craft.  The  men  have  just  brought  him  down 
the  Lakes  from  Proctor's  army,  now  holding  or  trying  to 
hold  Detroit,  I  am  not  quite  certain  which,"  he  added  with 
a  laugh.  "  These  men  have  been  in  the  service  of  the 
company  for  years,  and  except  that  twice  a  year  they  must 
have  their  spree,  they  are  thoroughly  reliable.  I  have 
promised  them  their  fill  of  bad  liquor,  so  we  shall  get 
to  Quebec  quicker  than  in  any  other  way." 

The  sun  was  sinking,  making  the  heavens  glow  with 
colors,  and  lighting  up  the  quaint  farm-houses,  and  still 
more  quaint  little  churches  on  the  river  bank.  Each 
church  was  topped  with  its  tiny  cross  of  glittering  gold. 
To  Mason,  the  scene  was  novel  in  the  extreme.  The 
villages  were  few  and  scattered  ;  but  the  ground  was  cul- 
tivated, and  there  was  more  appearance  of  wealth  than  he 
had  expected  to  find.  He  showed  his  surprise  to  his  com- 
panion, who  was  much  interested  in  his  remarks. 

"  I  have   seen   several  of  your  countrymen,  Captain 


A   PRISONER.  95 

Mason,"  said  Harcourt,  "  and  nice  enough  fellows  they 
were,  wanting  somewhat,  if  you  will  let  me  speak  plainly, 
in  what  we  call  knowledge  of  the  world ;  but  what  sur- 
prised me  most  was  their  utter  absence  of  ideas  regarding 
the  scenery  and  characteristics  of  their  own  country.  Not 
one  seemed  to  care,  whether  there  were  mountains  or 
rivers,  woods  or  plains." 

"  Do  you  know  much  more  about  the  characteristics  of 
Great  Britain  ?  "  queried  his  companion. 

"  Of  course  we  do,"  said  Harcourt ;  "  no  fellow  has  a 
vacation  but  he  takes  a  run  somewhere — to  the  lakes,  up 
into  Scotland,  salmon-fishing,  grouse-shooting,  or  some- 
thing of  that  sort." 

"  That  is  all  very  well,"  said  Edward,  "  but  you  do  not 
remember  that  we  have  no  separate  class  in  rank  and  for- 
tune as  you  have.  Not  that  there  are  not  rich  men,  com- 
paratively I  mean,  here  as  well  as  with  you ;  but  the  bulk 
of  our  people  are  hard-working  men,  who  concentrate  all 
their  energies  in  the  effort  to  support  their  families,  and 
lay  by  something  for  a  future." 

"  That  is  true,  I  did  not  think  of  that ;  but  even  that 
does  not  account  entirely  for  what  I  have  said.  Your  pro- 
fessional men  have  holidays,  do  they  not  ?  By  the  bye, 
you  are  not  a  soldier,  I  mean  one  by  choice  and  profes- 
sion as  I  am,  are  you  ?  " 

"  No,  I  am  a  lawyer  ;  but  what  of  that  ?  "  asked  Ed- 
ward. 

"  Nothing ;  only  I  thought  I  missed  the  shop,  as  we 
say.  Now  you  are  an  intelligent,  well  educated  man, 
much  more  so  than  I  am — has  it  ever  occurred  to  you  to 


96  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

take  a  trip  to  Niagara,  to  see  the  wide  prairies,  the  mighty 
Mississippi  of  your  native  land  ?  " 

"  Listen  to  me,  Captain  Harcourt." 

"  Bother  the  Captain,  call  me  Harcourt,  '  for  short,'  as 
we  used  to  say  at  Eton." 

"Well,"  said  Mason,  with  a  laugh,  "  Harcourt,  if  you 
had  been  born  in  a  half-civilized  land,  for  putting  my 
American  pride  in  my  pocket,  and  judging  only  by  what 
I  have  read,  we  are  but  half-civilized  •  if  from  your  ear- 
liest childhood,  big  rivers  and  rough  granite  hills,  giant 
trees,  and  almost  primeval  forests  had  met  your  gaze  on 
every  side — if  the  largest  city  in  which  you  had  ever  been, 
was  as  a  village,  when  compared  with  a  European  capital 
— if  every  book  you  read,  spoke  only  to  you  of  minsters 
sacred  with  the  dust  of  ages — of  castles  around  which 
hover  legend  and  story  of  knight  and  minstrel  and  lady 
fair,  I  say  if  all  this  had  been  brought  before  your  mind's 
eye,  for  which  would  you  have  longed  ?  what  would  you 
have  sought  to  see  and  study  ? " 

"  'Pon  my  word,  Mason,  you  put  the  question  in  a  very 
novel  light.  When  we  are  tired  of  cutting  each  others' 
throats  about  nothing,  you  shall  pay  me  a  visit  in  Wilt- 
shire, and  I  will  show  you 

'  Minsters  dim  and  castles  strong  and  high,' 

as  the  old  song  says." 

"  Yes,"  said  Mason,  half  ironically,  "  and  be  sneered 
at  as  the  green  Yankee."  The  other  laid  his  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  said  very  quietly  :  "  Cads,  my  boy,  do  that, 
not  men  like  you  and  me.  See  here,  Mason,  your  govern- 
ment has  been  enlisting  a  lot  of  our  deserters.  We  have 


A    PRISONER.  97 

taken  sixteen  or  more  and  Sir  George  swears  he  will  shoot 
them.  Your  '  Mr.  Madison  '  has  clapped  some  thirty  of 
our  fellows  in  limbo,  as  hostages,  and  we  intend  to  do  the 
same.  Now  I  don't  wish  to  see  you  one  of  them." 

"  I  am  much  obliged  to  you,"  broke  in  the  other,  "  it  is 
a  wish  in  which  I  cordially  join." 

Harcourt  laid  back  in  the  boat,  and  laughed  merrily. 
"  Well,"  he  continued,  after  his  laughter  had  subsided,  "  I 
hope  to  keep  you  quiet  in  Quebec  and  pull  you  through  if 
I  can.  I  gave  my  word,  that  you  would  not  try  and  es- 
cape, eh  !  " 

"  Depend  upon  it,"  replied  Mason,  "  whatever  may  be 
my  fate,  I  shall  meet  it  like  a  man." 

"  That  I  knew  as  soon  as  my  eyes  rested  upon  you," 
said  the  other.  "  Here  we  are  at  William  Henry,  or  Sor- 
rel, or  whatever  they  call  the  place,  where  we  must  stop 
the  night.  To-morrow  we  shall  reach  Quebec  ;  now  for 
something  to  eat,  and —  " 

"  But,  Captain  Harcourt,  may  not  your  kindness  to  me, 
a  stranger,  get  you  into  trouble  at  head- quarters." 

"  Not  a  bit  of  it,"  said  the  other.  "  In  the  first  place, 
I  am  doing  nothing  but  what  I  am  authorized  to  do,  and 
in  the  second  place,  I  have  an  old  uncle  who  owns  four 
seats  in  the  Commons,  and  I  am  heir  to  the  title,  you 
know.  It  is  wonderful  how  much  weight  four  votes  carry 
with  the  old  gentleman  at  the  '  Horse  Guards,'  where  they 
are  thrown  with  the  '  ins,'  and  not  with  the  '  outs.'  You 
understand  ?  No  ?  Oh  !  charming  simplicity,  thy  name 
is  Yankee." 

7 


CHAPTER  IX. 

MRS.    QUINCEY. 

"  From  the  chafed  tiger  rend  the  prey, 
Rush  on  the  lion  when  at  bay, 
Bar  the  fell  dragon's  blighted  way, 
But  shun  that  lovely  snare." 

SCOTT. 

LONG  and  weary  day's  travel  brought  the 
party  in  the  dusk  of  the  evening  to  Quebec. 
Edward  gazed  with  wonder  at  the  quaint  little 
ml  city,  with  its  Citadel  and  fortifications,  perched 
upon  an  almost  inaccessible  hill.  Its  walls  and  arch- 
ways, its  frowning  bastions  and  grim  cannon,  beside  which 
paced  the  plaided  Scott,  all  produced  a  picture  so  very  dif- 
ferent from  any  other  American  town.  His  companion 
pointed  out  to  him  the  Heights  of  Abraham,  and  he  could 
see  the  faint  outline  of  the  path  by  which  "  Wolfe  "  climbed 
to  glory  and  death.  The  river  was  crowded  with  shipping, 
and  the  tall  masts  of  an  English  seventy-four-gun  ship, 
flying  the  flag  of  a  rear  admiral,  lay  "  sleeping  on  her 
shadow  " — a  fit  emblem  of  the  mighty  nation  with  whom 
we  were  then  making  unnecessary  war.  As  Edward  looked 
wonderingly  at  what  was  to  him  a  novel  sight,  a  bright 
flame  burst  out  of  her  side,  and  the  "  Union  Jack  "  came 
fluttering  down  just  as  the  most  delicious  band  he  had 
ever  heard  began  playing  the  national  hymn.  Harcourt 

signalled   the  voyagers   to   stop  paddling,  and  the   boat 
(98) 


MRS.    QUINCEY.  99 

floated  gently  down  with  the  tide,  as  the  air  caught  up  and 
re-echoed  from  the  walled  city,  seemed  to  float  away,  and 
lose  itself  on  the  broad  unruffled  surface  of  the  river.  The 
gates  were  shut  and  the  guard  set  before  they  had  landed, 
so  that  Harcourt  proposed  spending  the  night  at  an  inn,  in 
what  was  called  the  new  town.  After  giving  some  orders 
for  supper  he  left  Edward,  and  went  to  deliver  in  person 
certain  despatches  with  which  he  had  been  charged.  Ed- 
ward was  almost  bewildered  at  the  novelty  of  the  scene. 
Could  he  be  in  America  ?  Had  he  not  been  transported 
by  enchantment  to  some  old  medieval  city  in  France  ?  It 
needed  but  the  white-coated  soldiers  of  the  Louis,  to  com- 
plete the  illusion.  On  every  side  something  new  and 
strange  met  his  eye.  The  language  was  the  patois,  so 
difficult  to  understand,  even  by  good  French  scholars.  The 
dresses  of  both  women  and  men  were  so  odd,  and  their  stolid 
indifferent  countenances,  so  unlike  the  sharp  business 
faces  he  was  accustomed  to  see  among  his  own  countrymen. 
His  American  uniform  exposed  him  to  many  remarks,  but 
to  no  direct  insult ;  but  still  it  was  with  much  pleasure  that 
he  saw  Harcourt  return.  A  very  well  cooked  supper,  and 
a  bottle  of  most  delicious  claret,  a  wine  Edward  had  never 
before  tasted,  restored  his  senses  and  brought  him  back 
from  dream-land. 

"  There,"  said  Harcourt,  throwing  down  his  napkin, 
and  idly  leaning  back  in  his  chair  which  he  had  drawn 
close  to  the  bright  wood  fire  which  burned  on  the  hearth, 
"  there  are  worse  things  in  life  than  such  a  supper,  and 
such  wine  as  that ;  besides,  Mason,  my  boy,  you  are  in 
luck  to-night.  Sir  George  was  in  high  good-humor  at  the 
news  I  brought  him,  and  well  he  may  be,  as  the  campaign 


IOO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

is  over  for  the  year — so  I  put  in  a  word  for  you.  I  was 
told  to  talk  about  it  some  other  time  when  I  could  remem- 
ber it.  It  will  be  a  devilish  long  time  before  I  do,  I  can 
tell  you." 

"  How  can  I  thank  you,  Harcourt,  for  you  kindness,  and 
to  me  a  stranger  !  " 

"  By  never  saying  a  word  about  it.  Now  listen  !  There 
is  to  be  a  little  party  at  the  house  of  an  acquaintance  of 
mine  to-night — so  now,  if  you  will  go  with  me,  I  will  intro- 
duce you  to  some  nice  fellows,  and  the  handsomest  woman 
your  eyes  ever  looked  on."  He  blushed  slightly  as  he  spoke. 

Edward  glanced  down  at  his  soiled  and  well  worn  uni- 
form. 

Harcourt  replied  at  once  to  the  glance.  "  Oh  !  I  have 
provided  for  all  that,  you  shall  go  in  '  Mufti.'  I  told  my 
servant  to  bring  down  a  lot  of  my  things.  They  will  not 
fit  you  very  well.  I  doubt  if  Stultz  would  recognize  his 
coat ;  but  we  will  pin  you  up  as  the  women  say." 

Harcourt's  man,  a  clever  London  servant,  soon  made 
Edward  presentable,  and  he  looked  as  he  entered  the  sit- 
ting-room, what  he  was,  a  fine,  handsome,  gentlemanly 
fellow.  Harcourt  walked  round  him  with  great  gravity, 
holding  a  candle  in  his  hand. 

"  Ton  my  word,  I  did  '  ce  cher  Stultz'  great  injustice, 
that  coat  would  not  do  dishonor  to  the  great  Brummell 
himself.  By  the  bye,  he  patronized  me  when  I  was  last  in 
London.  There  is  your  coffee,  drink  it,  and  we  will  go." 
As  they  reached  the  door  he  turned,  and  laying  his  hand 
on  Edward's  shoulder,  said, 

"  Mason,  keep  your  temper.  Most  of  the  men  you  will 
meet  are  nice  enough,  but  there  are  a  rum  lot  mixed  in, 


MRS.    QUINCEY.  IOI 

and  you  Yankees  have  the  reputation  of  being  strangely 
thin-skinned." 

"  Does  the  warning  apply  to  women  as  well  as  men  ? " 
asked  Mason  with  a  smile. 

"  As  for  that,"  said  the  other,  again  reddening,  "  you 
must  take  your  chance  like  the  rest,  Lucy  Quincey  will 
show  you  no  quarter,  I  promise  you." 

The  little  gathering  of  which  Harcourt  had  spoken, 
proved  to  be  quite  a  large  assemblage.  There  were  but 
few  women  present,  and  most  of  the  men  were  officers 
connected  with  the  garrison.  The  host,  Captain  Quincey, 
to  whom  Edward  was  presented,  and  who  was  profuse  in 
his  expressions  of  hospitality,  was  a  small  dark-eyed  man, 
about  thirty-five  years  old,  very  handsome,  with  features  of 
a  strongly  Jewish  type,  with  something  sinister  in  his  ex- 
pression— a  fact  quickly  noticed  by  Edward.  Captain 
Quincey  was  in  uniform,  which  was  rather  unusual,  as  most 
of  the  officers  were  in  civilian's  dress, — but  he  excused  his 
costume,  under  the  plea  that  he  had  but  that  moment  left 
the  office,  to  which  his  duties  as  "  Post  Adjutant  "  con- 
fined him.  He  asked  Mason  some  questions  relative  to 
the  time  and  place  of  his  capture,  trusted  his  stay  in  Que- 
bec would  be  short,  said  some  more  civil  nothings,  and 
passed  on.  The  two  men  had  stood  but  a  moment  to- 
gether when  Harcourt's  arm  was  touched,  and  as  he  turned 
with  a  start,  a  low  soft  voice  said  : 

"  Captain  Harcourt  has  returned  safely  from  his  perils 
by  land  and  water — Quebec  has  been  a  desert  since  his 
departure."  There  was  a  certain  mocking  tone  used  by 
the  lady,  which  grated  on  Mason's  ear,  and  he  glanced  at 
his  friend.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  languid,  finished  air 


IO2  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  manner  which  Harcourt  suddenly  assumed.  Touch- 
ing the  finger  tips  of  the  hand  the  lady  extended  to  him, 
he  bowed  most  deeply  as  he  replied  : 

"  Permit  me  to  present  my  friend,  Captain  Mason  of 
the  American  army,  Mrs.  Quincey."  With  a  charm  of 
manner  in  marked  contrast  to  that  which  but  the  moment 
before  Mrs.  Quincey  had  used  to  Harcourt,  she  extended 
her  hand  ;  there  was  nothing  in  the  few  words  she  used, 
but  Edward  felt  as  if  a  subtile  spell  had  passed  over  him. 
Taking  advantage  of  the  conversation  between  the  two, 
Edward  took  a  long,  careful  look  at  the  lady,  and  certainly 
his  eye  had  never  rested  on  a  more  lovely  object.  Tall, 
above  the  common  height,  Mrs.  Quincey's  form  was  most 
exquisitely  rounded.  The  fashion  of  the  day  caused  the 
neck  and  arms  to  be  exposed,  and  hers  were  white  and 
dimpled.  Her  hair,  which  grew  down  low  on  her  forehead, 
was  wavy,  and  of  a  rich  golden  brown  ;  her  eyes  were 
hazel,  large  and  languishing,  and  as  she  turned  them  on 
the  young  man,  he  felt  there  was  a  power  in  woman  he  had 
never  known  before. 

Mrs.  Quincey  was  about  twenty-six  years  old,  and  her 
whole  bearing  spoke  the  woman  of  the  world,  and  of  a 
world  to  which  Edward  was  an  absolute  stranger.  The 
very  costume,  the  rich  heavy  silk,  the  beautiful  lace,  the 
profusion  of  ornament  and  jewelry,  too  much  he  thought 
for  a  mere  reception,  all  denoted  something  entirely  differ- 
ent from  the  provincial  life  in  which  he  had  heretofore 
moved.  The  very  way  in  which  she  received  him,  the 
quickness  with  which  the  shyness  of  a  stranger  was  brush- 
ed away,  and  he  was  made  to  feel  not  only  at  ease,  but 
absolutely  like  an  old  acquaintance,  excited  at  once  his 


MRS.    QUINCE Y.  1 03 

wonder  and  admiration.  There  was  not  a  word  in  the 
short  conversation  which  amounted  to  any  thing  more  than 
the  merest  commonplace,  not  a  syllable  that  every  one  in 
the  room  might  not  have  heard,  and  yet  his  voice  sank  to 
a  whisper,  and  he  unconsciously  drew  his  chair  a  trifle 
closer  as  if  to  make  the  lady  more  particularly  his  own. 
Edward  felt  Harcourt  was  watching  him,  and  he  thought 
he  saw  a  slightly  ironical  smile  curl  his  lip.  Turning  his 
eyes  on  Mrs.  Quincey,  he  saw  she  had  also  observed  the 
smile,  for  she  bit  her  lip  with  evident  vexation.  Card 
tables  had  been  set  out  and  most  of  the  guests  were  ab- 
sorbed in  some  game  of  chance.  To  the  offer  of  a  seat 
made  by  his  hosl,-Edwar;d  frankly  confessed,  he  had  never 
played  a  game  in  his.Jife,  -nor  did  he  know  one  card  from 
another. 

"  Why,  Mr.  Mason,"  said  Mrs.  Quincey,  "  in  what  seclu- 
sion have  you  been  brought  up  ?  " 

"  Deeper,  Madam,  I  assure  you,  than  in  the  backwoods 
of  Kentucky — in  that  of  a  New  England  town." 

"  And  do  they  never  play  games  of  chance,  hazard  for 
example  ? "  asked  the  lady  with  evident  unbelief. 

"  Certainly,  in  the  cities,  among  men  only — never  in  the 
presence  of  ladies.  I  doubt,  Mrs.  Quincey,  if  there  are 
five  families  in  New  England  to-day,  the  men  of  which 
would  be  willing  openly  to  sit  down  and  play  for  money 
as  these  gentlemen  are  now  doing." 

"Oh,  Captain  Mason,  let  me  advise  you,  urge  you, 
never,  never  touch  a  card." 

Edward  was  startled  ;  there  was  a  depth  of  feeling, 
a  passion  in  the  tone  of  her  voice  he  had  not  looked 
for. 


IO4  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

At  this  moment  Mr.  Quincey  called  out  to  his  wife, 
without  turning  round  in  his  chair, — 

"  Sorry  to  disturb  you,  Lucy,  but  don't  you  think  a  lit- 
tle music  would  cheer  us  up  ?  " 

His  wife  did  not  answer  a  word,  but  smiling  an  apology 
to  Edward,  she  rose  and  took  her  seat  at  the  piano.  Her 
manner  certainly  did  not  indicate  that  the  labor  was  one 
of  love  for  her  husband. 

She  was  immediately  surrounded  by  several  young  men, 
and  at  times  the  music  was  drowned  in  the  sound  of  merry 
laughter  which  came  from  the  party. 

Edward  joined  Harcourt  in  a  different  part  of  the 
room,  who,  taking  him  by  the  arm,  said, — 

"  Mason,  I  want  you  to  know ,  flag  Captain  of  the 

,  lying  off  here  ;  we  passed  her  this  evening.  He  has 

a  number  of  your  countrymen  on  board,  taken  from  mer- 
chant vessels.  He  promises  to  take  you  to  Halifax,  and 
as  he  will  in  all  probability  be  several  months  at  sea  be- 
fore the  rear  admiral  touches  at  Halifax,  this  infernal 
trouble  about  prisoners  may  be  over  between  us." 

The  officer  to  whom  he  was  thus  abruptly  introduced 
shook  him  warmly  by  the  hand. 

"  Any  friend  of  Harcourt's  is  my  friend  at  once.  There 
is  no  necessity  of  your  coming  on  board  until  we  sail, 
which  will  not  be  until  the  day  after  to-morrow  at  the  ear- 
liest. I  will  make  you  as  comfortable  as  I  can — send  a 
boat  and  a  file  of  marines  for  you — look  better,  you  know 
— shall  not  put  you  in  irons,  you  know." 

Mason  laughed  as  he  returned  the  warm  greeting  of 
the  bluff,  honest  sailor. 

"  Now,  Mason,  if  you  have  had  enough  of  this,  shall 


MRS.    QUINCEY,  1 05 

we  leave  ? "  asked  Harcourt.  "  Will  you  come  with  us, 
Captain  ?  Will  give  you  a  cigar  and  a  glass  of  brandy- 
and-water." 

"  Not  to-night,"  replied  the  other  ;  "  I  have  not  paid 
for  my  footing,"  he  added  with  a  constrained  laugh,  point- 
ing to  the  card  table.  "The  truth  is,  Charley,  I  must  have 
one  smile,  even  if  I  have  to  pay  for  it  hereafter." 

Harcourt  said  nothing  but  drew  Mason  away.  He 
could  hear  him  mutter  below  his  breath,  "  Poor  Lucy,  poor 
child  !  " 

The  next  day  'Harcourt  insisted  that  his  friend  should 
join  him  in  his  quarters.  Agre'e'able  to  his  own  wish  he 
kept  quietly  in  the  -house:-'-- 

A  file  of  English  papers  giving  all  the  news  which  then 
convulsed  Europe— the  story  of  the  battle  after  battle 
which  tore  down  Napoleon's  power — the  mighty  uprising 
of  the  nations,  most  of  the  accounts  of  which  had  only 
come  to  Edward  in  broken  fragments — afforded  him  en- 
trancing occupation.  He  saw  but  little  of  Harcourt,  whose 
duties  on  the  staff  kept  him  occupied  all  day,  and  who 
seemed  lured  by  some  irresistible  impulse  to  the  Quinceys 
in  the  evening.  He  asked  Edward,  indeed,  to  accompany 
him,  but  seemed  relieved  when  he  declined. 

It  was  on  the  morning  of  the  third  day,  as  Edward  sat 
by  the  window  watching  the  moving  throng  in  the  princi- 
pal street  of  the  town,  that  Harcourt  entered.  For  a  mo- 
ment or  so  he  said  nothing,  and  his  air  was  gloomy  and 
cast  down,  and  when  at  length  he  did  speak,  it  was  with 
a  hesitancy  totally  at  variance  with  his  usually  calm,  pol- 
ished manner. 

Edward  knew  at  once  that  something  had  happened, 


IO6  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  jumped  at  the  conclusion  that  the  hour  of  parting  had 
come. 

"  So  the  time  is  up,"  he  said,  rising  from  his  seat  and 
extending  his  hand,  "  and  all  that  remains  for  me  to  do  is 
to  thank  my  more  than  kind  friends  in  the  warmest  man- 
ner." 

Harcourt  took  his  hand  and  held  it  for  more  than  a 
minute.  His  face  was  very  sad,  and  a  tear  actually  gath- 
ered on  his  eyelid. 

"  D — d  disagreeable,  but  I  must  do  it,  old  fellow.  You 
see,  after  all,  I  am  ordered  to  shut  you  up  with  the  others, 
in  close  confinement — the  hostages,  I  mean." 

Edward  was  brave,  more  than  usually  so,  but  he  felt 
his  heart  stop  beating  for  the  moment  as  the  words  fell  on 
his  ear.  He  manned  himself  to  meet  his  fate,  and,  as  he 
drew  himself  proudly  up,  said  : 

"  I  trust  I  have  not  been  the  means  of  bringing  any 
embarrassment  upon  you,  Captain  Harcourt." 

"  Nonsense,"  said  the  other ;  "  somebody  got  hold  of 
Sir  George  before  I  got  there  this  morning,  and  like  all 
weak  men,  he  is  obstinate.  In  fact,  when  he  takes  the  bit 
in  his  teeth,  the  devil  can't  hold  him.  One  hour  more  and 

I  should  have  had  you  safe  on  board  the  .  Now  it  is 

too  late." 

Edward  stepped  to  the  window  and  looked  up  at  the 
bright  November  sun  which  streamed  down  on  the  busy 
street  and  the  gay  happy  world.  He  thought  of  the  little 
far-away  New  England  village,  of  Sibyl's  soft,  gentle,  lov- 
ing eyes,  of  the  affectionate  old  clergyman.  It  was  hard, 
hard  to  meet  death,  when  safety  had  been  so  near. 

"  Come,"  said  Harcourt,   laying  his  hand  heavily  on 


MRS.    QUINCEY.  1 07 

Edward's  shoulder.  "  You  are  a  gentleman  by  birth  and 
breeding,  if  ever  there  was  one.  Meet  it  as  becomes  your 
blood." 

He  turned  as  he  spoke,  and  without  looking  back  led 
the  way  to  the  street.  At  the  door  stood  a  corporal  and  a 
'file  of  soldiers.  Motioning  to  the  non-commissioned  offi- 
cer to  fall  back,  Harcourt  took  Mason's  arm,  and  they 
walked  towards  the  Citadel.  For  several  minutes  neither 
spoke,  until  at  length  the  young  Englishman  broke  the 
silence  : 

"  I  will  send  you  in  every  thing  to  make  you  comforta- 
ble. Write  to  your  friends,  and  I  will  see  that  the  letters 
are  passed  through  the  lines.  By  Jove  !  it  makes  me  shud- 
der ;  and  yet,  as  a  man,  Edward,  I  do  not  think  England 
is  in  the  wrong." 

"  You  can  hardly  expect  me  to  discuss  this  problem  in 
moral  ethics  with  a  perfectly  unbiassed  mind,  I  presume," 
said  Edward,  with  a  sickly  smile. 

"  I  spoke  my  thoughts  unconsciously,"  said  the  young 
Englishman.  "  I  beg  your  pardon." 

They  had  by  this  time  reached  the  centre  of  the  for- 
tress, and  saw  before  them  the  officer  of  the  guard  and 
many  of  the  soldiers  standing  carelessly  around.  The  cor- 
poral was  passed  by  the  young  men,  and  raising  his 
hand  to  his  breast  in  salute,  handed  the  officer  a  paper. 
When  he  had  read  it,  the  young  soldier  stepped  forward, 
and  with  a  strong  Scotch  accent,  said  : 

"  Capt.  Mason,  8jth  Reg.  U.  S.  Army." 

"Your  servant,  sir,"  said  Mason,  drawing  himself 
proudly  up  to  his  full  height. 

"  One  moment,"  exclaimed  Harcourt,  haughtily  waving 


IO8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

his  hand  ;  the  subaltern  fell  back.  "  I  would  have  saved 
you  this,  God  knows  ;  but,  Mason,  you  carry  into  that  dun- 
geon a  happier  heart  than  Charles  Harcourt's.  God  bless 
you  !  Good-bye  !  " 

He  wrung  his  hand,  and  Mason  was  alone  among 
strangers. 

The  young  Highlander  treated  him  with  great  polite- 
ness, and  after  a  few  preliminary  formalities  had  been 
gone  through  with,  asked  him  to  follow  him.  He  led  the 
way  to  one  of  the  casemates  of  the  fortress,  at  the  door  of 
which  stood  two  sentinels.  The  room  into  which  he  was 
shown  was  a  long  vaulted  apartment,  the  embrasures  be- 
ing heavily  barred,  making  a  prison  of  it  in  reality.  A 
stove  was  burning  in  the  centre  of  the  room,  and  cots  and 
mattresses  were  strewn  about.  In  the  casemate  were  as- 
sembled about  thirty  of  Mason's  brother  officers,  naval  and 
military.  Every  eye  was  turned  on  him  as  he  entered,  but 
not  a  word  was  spoken. 

The  heavy  door  swung  back  with  a  shock  which  echoed 
through  the  vaulted  room,  and  a  clear,  loud  voice  said  : 

"Our  number  is  complete.  There  remains  nothing 
now  but  the  priest  and  the  firing  party.  God  have  mercy 
on  our  souls." 


CHAPTER   X. 


THE  APPEAL. 

Spare  him,  he  our  love  hath  shared  ! 
Spare  him,  as  thou  wouldst  be  spared  I 

LONGFELLOW. 

HE  state  of  Dr.  Spencer's  health  caused  great 
uneasiness  to  his  numerous  friends,  and  no 
one  of  them  was  more  anxious  than  Deacon 
Knapp.  The  Deacon  hid  under  the  cloak  of 
cynicism,  a  kind  and  loving  nature.  He  had  been  brought 
up  from  infancy  in  the  old  church  under  the  ministrations 
of  the  Doctor  and  his  father  before  him,  and  above  all  he 
looked  upon  Dr.  Spencer  as  the  representative  of  sound 
religious  and  political  doctrines.  Not  a  day  passed  but 
the  Deacon  made  his  appearance  at  the  parsonage,  and 
many  an  hour  was  spent  in  cheering  his  old  friend.  They 
both  felt  the  pressure  of  the  political  events,  and  the 
disasters  which  pressed  so  heavily  on  the  people,  but  there 
was  one  consolation  of  which  the  Deacon  availed  himself, 
and  that  was,  the  pleasure  of  grumbling.  His  religion 
forbade  him  to  swear,  but  did  not  require  him  to  soften  his 
language  in  other  respects,  and  deep  and  enduring  was  the 
pit  to  which  he  consigned  Mr.  Madison  and  each  one  of 
his  advisers.  As  Deacon  Knapp  approached  the  parson- 
age, this  morning,  he  was  greeted  hy  Mr.  Hamilton.  This 
(109) 


IIO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

gentleman  had  been  long  absent  from  D ,  nor  had  his 

recent  arrival  become  known.  After  the  usual  salutations 
Mr.  Hamilton's  first  inquiry  was  about  Dr.  Spencer's 
health. 

"  Well  now  you  see,"  said  the  older  man,  "  the  Parson 
I  greatly  fear  has  almost  '  fit  the  fight.'  He's  finished 
his  course.  I  wish,"  he  added  bitterly,  "  I  could  say  with 
joy.  But  what  can  you  expect  from  a  man  to  whom 
Edwards  was  a  light  in  the  gospel,  and  Hamilton  in  poli- 
tics, now  that  them  Unitarians  is  prospering  at  hum,  and 
the  dernmycrats  rules  it  in  Washington." 

"  I  need  not  ask,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  if  he  is  prepared 
to  die  ;  for  if  singleness  of  heart,  purity  of  life,  and  devo 
tion  to  God  and  man,  count  for  any  thing,  James  Spencer's 
spirit  will  be  borne  aloft  on  angels'  wings." 

"  Jist  so  ;  you  say  nothing  but  the  truth,  Mr.  Hamilton, 
yet  it's  kinder  hard  if  a  poor  sinful  man  may  be  permitted 
to  question  the  great  Ruler  of  events  (he  raised  his  hat 
reverently  as  he  spoke),  to  see  this  light  quenched  in  the 
distress  of  nations  and  the  overturning  of  all  conservative 
principles." 

"  Oh  !  let  us  take  a  more  cheerful  view  of  affairs,  my 
old  friend,"  said  the  other.  "  Our  country  is  too  young  to 
be  ruined  yet.  She  has  a  glorious  future  before  her." 

"  That's  as  may  be,"  muttered  the  Deacon  ;  "  but  I  am 
getting  too  old  to  look  forward  much  longer.  I  come 
home  at  night,  and  thar  sits  Sally,  the  light  of  my  eyes,  a- 
crying  over  the  baby,  because  Sam's  away  over  the  lakes. 
I  come  down  here,  and  here's  Sibyl,  who's  got  more  char- 
acter than  any  woman  I  ever  knew,  mournful  and  dis- 
tressed. I  tell  you,  Mr.  Hamilton,  it's  the  same  where- 


THE    APPEAL.  I  1 1 

ever  you  may  go.  There's  not  a  fireside  that  isn't  desolate 
nor  a  churchyard  that's  not  growing  green — and  what 
for  ?  I  ask  myself  that  question  twenty  times  a  day,  in 
the  long  watches  of  the  night,  and  at  the  cock  crowing ; 
what  for  ?  " 

"  They  are  falling  as  their  fathers  fell :  let  us  hope 
they  have  fought  as  their  fathers  fought.  My  old  friend,  it 
is  our  country  which  demands  this  sacrifice.  Foolishly, 
wrongly  I  admit ;  but  still  it  is  their  country." 

"  God  forbid  !  "  said  the  Deacon  pausing  in  his  walk, 
for  they  had  now  reached  the  steps  of  the  Parsonage, 
"  God  forbid  !  that  I  should  refuse  any  of  mine,  or  all  of 
mine,  from  the  baby  in  the  cradle  to  the  two  young  men, 
who  are  somewhere  in  the  front,  if  it  was  for  my  country  ; 
but  it  ain't.  I  tell  you,  Mr.  Hamilton,  you,  who  have  held 
Senates  enthralled,  that  if  you  were  to  speak  until  the  crack 
of  doom,  you  would  not  alter  the  fact  that  this  war  is  a 
sectional  war,  and  the  longer  it  goes  on  the  wider  will 
be  the  breach  between  the  North  and  South.  You  can't 
make  our  people  believe  ag'in  common  sense." 

"  But,  my  dear  fellow,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  you  have  as 
you  yourself  say,  more  at  stake  ;  and  are  ready  to  make 
greater  sacrifices  than  your  less  fortunate  neighbors. 
Why  then  cherish  these  views,  why,  even  in  conversation 
with  me,  allow  them  to  take  possession  of  your  mind  ? 
Division,  sectional  strife  !  Accursed  be  he  who  advises  it, 
or  even  the  mind  that  gives  it  birth." 

"  Amen  !  "  uttered  the  Deacon.  "  Hamilton,  in  this 
house,  lying  on  a  bed  of  sickness,  may  be  of  death,  is  the 
oldest  friend  I  have  in  the  world.  As  you  yourself  have 
said,  the  purest  spirit,  the  most  self-forgetful,  the  one  the 


112  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

most  deeply  imbued  with  the  teachings  of  the  great  men 
who  have  gone  before  us." 

In  the  energy  of  his  feelings,  the  Deacon  had  dropped 
the  accent  and  phraseology  of  the  common  New  Englander, 
and  spoke  with  dignity  and  even  beauty. 

"  To  his  hand  I  verily  believe  has  been  committed  that 
portion  of  the  Israel  of  God  who  are  called  upon  to  sojourn 
here  in  this  tabernacle  of  the  flesh.  Yet  even  James 
Spencer  himself,  the  meek,  the  gentle,  the  lowly,  holds 
that  resistance  to  tyranny  is  obedience  to  God." 

"This  must  not  be,  Knapp.  My  God!  have  our  in- 
stitutions come  to  this  ?  That  such  as  you,  a  rich  man  and 
an  Elder  as  you  yourself  would  express  it  in  the  Church 
on  earth,  can  hold  even  for  an  instant  the  monstrous 
thought  of  a  separation  or  a  division  of  the  Union.  Do 
not  answer  me,  make  no  reply,  which  even  to  a  friend  like 
me  can  place  you  on  the  record.  At  this  moment,  when 
the  very  Houses  of  Assembly  are  passing  resolutions, 
incendiary  in  their  nature ;  when  but  a  breath  can  fan  the 
flame  of  civil  war,  every  honest  heart,  every  true  man,  must 
labor  not  to  rend  but  to  knit  together  in  one  indissoluble 
bond,  the  common  children  of  one  common  mother." 

"  Have  I  not  said  I'd  do  it  with  my  all,  were  it  to 
the  last  drop  of  my  heart's  blood  ?  But  where's  the 
use  ?  We  can  give  our  sons  to  fall  like  brave  men  on 
the  field  of  battle ;  we  can  give  our  substance  wrung 
from  these  granite  hills  by  days  of  toil  and  pinching 
economy  ;  we  can  see  all  taken  and  all  lost,  and  yet, 
thank  God  !  he  permits  us  to  make  the  sacrifice,  if  it 
but  feebly  benefit  our  fathers'  land.  But,  Mr.  Hamilton, 
we  will  not  see  these  children,  blood  of  our  blood,  bone  of 


THE   APPEAL.  113 

our  bone,  led  like  bullocks  to  the  shambles,  to  be  shot 
down,  not  in  fair  open  battle,  but  as  just  retaliation  for 
the  lives  of  traitors,  deserters  and  murderers.  The  pro- 
tecting arm  of  our  government  shall  not  be  thrown  over 
every  foreign  adventurer.  These  sons  of  ours  are  children 
of  the  promise,  their  birthright  is  the  citizenship  which, 
by  seven  long  years  of  bloody  war,  we  won  for  them.  I 
say,  and  I  know  I  speak  the  feelings  of  every  New  Eng- 
land father,  you  shall  not  take  the  children's  bread,  and 
cast  it  to  the  dogs." 

They  had  been  so  earnest  in  their  conversation  that 
they  had  not  heard  the  approach  of  Mrs.  Spencer,  who  now 
stood  on  the  steps  but  a  few  feet  above  them.  Care  and 
anxiety  had  altered  the  poor  old  lady,  but  still  she  strove 
to  greet  Mr.  Hamilton  with  her  accustomed  manner. 

"  Do  come  in,"  she  said.  "  The  Doctor  heard  your  voices 
and  he  is  dying  with  impatience  to  learn  if  there  is  any 
news.  He  is  no  better  to-day,"  she  added  mournfully ;  "  and 
what  is  to  become  of  Sibyl  and  me  when  he  is  gone  ? 
Where  shall  we  look  ?  to  whom  shall  we  turn  ?  " 

"  Well  ma'am,"  said  the  Deacon,  "  there's  but  few  on  us 
but  feels  kindly,  if  it  were  but  to  a  dog,  whose  head  James 
Spencer  had  patted,  let  alone  to  a  woman  who  has  been 
his  companion  for  thirty  years.  There  will  be  some  differ- 
ence in  your  circumstances,  but  the  "seed  of  the  righteous 
will  not  be  forsaken,  nor  will  his  children  have  to  beg  their 
bread."  As  they  were  speaking,  they  entered  the  house, 
and  naturally  turned  into  the  library  which  seemed 
sacred  to  the  kind  old  Doctor.  The  books  were  on  the 
table,  just  as  he  had  last  read  them  ;  the  pen  lay  with  the 
ink  dry  on  it,  as  it  had  fallen  from  his  weakening  fingers — 


I  14  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

all  was  too  sacred  even  for  the  neatness  of  a  New  England 
housekeeper  to  disturb. 

"  I  am  ashamed,"  muttered  Mrs.  Spencer,  "  to  let  any 
one  see  this  room,  all  so  littered  up.  But  James  never  did 
like  to  have  his  things  moved,  and  now  I  cannot  look  at 
them,  without  crying." 

The  Deacon  walked  to  the  window,  his  features  worked, 
and  the  big  tears  trickled  one  by  one  down  his  rugged 
cheeks.  His  more  accomplished  but  not  less  sympathiz- 
ing companion  took  the  poor  old  woman's  hand,  and  said, 
in  the  sweet  rich  voice  to  which  no  man  had  ever  listened 
unmoved, 

"  My  dear  madam,  Deacon  Knapp  only  spoke  the  com- 
mon feeling  of  the  entire  community.  Should  it  be  God's 
will  to  remove  the  friend  of  a  lifetime,  every  heart  will  be 
open  to  cherish,  and  to  welcome  his  widow  and  child." 

"  It  was  not  so  much  of  myself  I  was  thinking,"  said 
the  still  weeping  woman,  "  but  of  Sibyl.  The  load  she 
is  carrying  is  a  terrible  one  for  one  so  frail.  Expecting 
every  moment  to  hear  that  the  man  she  loves,  ah,  me !  has 
been  shot  like  a  dog,  and  now  her  father,  her  playmate, 
her  teacher — I  never  could  understand  him  as  she  did. 
Sometimes,  God  forgive  me  !  I  was  jealous  of  the  love  the 
two  bore  one  another,  and  now  he  is  dying,  and  no — " 

The  wretched  woman  covered  her  face  with  her  apron, 
and  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  in  speechless  agony.  There 
was  a  hard  expression  on  the  Deacon's  face  as  he  turned 
from  the  window,  and  Mr.  Hamilton  avoided  his  eye.  He 
pointed  with  his  hand  to  the  weeping  woman. 

"  I  can't  frame  amendments  to  the  Constitution,  Mr. 
Hamilton,  nor  can  I  argue  a  point  of  Constitutional  law, 


THE    APPEAL.  115 

but  I  have  a  heart  which  tells  me  when  another's  wounded 
and  bleeding  unto  death,  and  yet  you  say,  that  even  unto 
this  we  must  submit  ?  " 

There  was  something  so  indescribably  bitter,  and  even 
malignant,  in  the  man's  tone,  usually  so  calm  and  self- 
contained,  that  Hamilton  almost  shuddered. 

"  Come,"  said  Mrs.  Spencer,  rousing  herself  by  a 
strong  effort.  "  Come,  he  is  waiting  for  you.  You  will  be 
careful,  Deacon,  you  will  not  worry  nor  excite  him,  will 
you  ? " 

The  Deacon  could  only  nod,  and  as  they  turned  to  the 
door  they  were  met  by  Sibyl,  looking  wan  and  white  as 
Parian  marble. 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,  will  you  speak  with  me  a  moment  ?  " 

The  girl's  voice  quivered,  and  her  fingers  twined  them- 
selves convulsively  one  with  the  other. 

"  Certainly,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he  said,  and  his  eyes 
followed  lovingly  the  graceful  figure  which  walked  towards 
the  window.  When  they  were  alone,  Sibyl  turned  and, 
coming  close  to  him,  placed  her  hand  on  his  arm  and  said, 
in  a  broken  voice — 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,  save  him,  save  the  man  who  was  pre- 
ferred to  you." 

"  My  child,"  said  Hamilton,  "  it  needs  no  appeal  from 
you  to  induce  me  to  use  every  faculty  for  that  object.  If 
I  did  not  cherish  for  you,  even  now,  the  tenderest  love — 
nay,  do  not  start ;  it  is  a  pure  love,  Sibyl,  so  pure  that  it 
is  hopeless,  I  would,  were  it  in  my  power,  save  Edward 
Mason,  as  one  of  the  brightest,  noblest  specimens  of  early 
manhood.  But  what  can  I  do?  I  am  utterly,  absolutely 
powerless." 


Il6  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  It  cannot  be,"  she  answered,  "  that  the  great,  the 
powerful  Arthur  Hamilton,  the  leader,  the  controller  of  his, 
State,  the  admired,  the  loved  of  his  countrymen,  says  he 
is  powerless  ;  and  says  this  to  the  woman  he  pretends  to 
love?" 

"  Pretends  to  love  !  Oh,  Sibyl  !  " 

"  Then  save  him,  save  him  from  death,  and  I  will  be 
your  slave.  Oh,  I  will  worship  you,  I  will  look  upon  you 
as  a  god,"  and  she  sank  weak  and  trembling  into  a  chair. 

"  My  child,  I  have  absolutely  no  influence  over  the  cow- 
ardly, treacherous  man  who  now  fills  the  office  of  our  Chief 
Magistrate.  I  have  been  to  Washington,  I  have  bent  my- 
self to  ask,  that  as  the  reward  of  a  life's  service  to  my  coun- 
try, I  might  be  allowed  to  act  in  the  affair.  I  was  refused. 
Refused,  did  I  say?  I  was  ignominiously  spurned  and 
reviled.  I  submitted,  and  again  and  again  renewed  the 
request  as  a  favor.  This  have  I  already  done  for  your 
lover.  No,  let  me  speak  the  truth,  I  would  have  done  the 
same  for  the  meanest  laborer  among  my  countrymen." 

The  frightful  gasp  which  Sibyl  gave,  as  she  heard  Mr. 
Hamilton,  the  convulsive  manner  in  which  she  pressed  her 
hand  on  her  heart,  made  him  tremble,  and  he  sprang  to 
the  door  to  summon  aid. 

"  Stop  !"  she  gasped  rather  than  spoke.  "  My  father 
knows  nothing  of  Edward's  fate  as  yet.  In  mercy  spare 
him." 

"  My  dear,  dear  Sibyl,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  "  think  of 
your  friends,  your  parents,  and  be  calm." 

"  Calm  :  am  I  not  calm  ?  See,"  and  she  extended  "her 
hand.  "  My  pulse  does  not  beat  faster  than  yours.  My 
eyes  have  not  shed  a  tear,  they  feel  as  if  they  were  hot, 


THE    APPEAL.  117 

burning  coals.  Since  we  were  little  toddling  things,  and 
played  together  in  this  room,  there  has  not  been  a  fibre  of 
my  being  which  has  not  been  bound  up  and  woven  into 
his.  I  stand  by  my  father's  bedside  and  try  to  smile. 
O  God  !  Thy  hand  is  heavy  on  Thy  hand-maiden.  Father 
and  he  both  gone.  Both  gone,  and  I  shall  be  alone." 

The  great  strong  man  trembled  as  he  held  the  girl's 
hand.  He  knew  that  unless  the  British  Government,  for 
humanity's  sake,  waived  the  right  given  them  by  the  law  of 
man  and  of  nations,  to  punish  deserters  from  their  armies, 
taken  with  arms  in  their  hands,  in  open  fight  and  in  league 
with  their  enemies,  there  was  for  Edward  Mason  and  his 
wretched  companions  no  hope.  One  might  as  well  hope 
to  still  the  waves  of  the  Atlantic  with  a  word  as  to  speak 
of  humanity  or  mercy  to  Mr.  Madison  or  his  advisers. 

The  administration  party  were  playing  for  the  foreign 
vote,  a  vote  growing  as  fast  as  the  fraudulent  naturalization 
papers  could  be  issued.  To  talk  to  such  men  of  humanity 
and  mercy,  of  the  sufferings  of  women  and  children,  and 
the  agony  of  a  young  girl,  was  hopeless.  The  man  laughed 
in  the  bitterness  of  his  spirit. 

As  the  faint  mocking  sounds  struck  Sibyl's  ear,  she 
sprang  to  her  feet,  a  faint  tinge  of  color  came  back  to  her 
cheek.  She  was  about  to  speak  when  he  motioned  to  her 
to  be  silent. 

"  Judge  not  too  hastily.  In  the  very  bitterness  of  my 
soul,  a  sound  broke  from  me  of  derision  at  my  own  help- 
lessness, of  mockery  at  the  men  whom  a  free  people  have 
placed  in  authority  over  them.  As  I  have  said,  I  am  pow- 
erless. There  is  but  one  refuge,  Sibyl,  and  that  is  in 
prayer  to  the  God  of  Hosts." 


Il8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Sibyl  had  clung  almost  unconsciously  to  hope,  founded 
on  Mr.  Hamilton's  power  and  influence.  All  her  life  she 
had  seen  every  thing  yield  to  the  will  and  determination  of 
her  father's  friend.  Now  in  her  despair,  cut  off  from  the 
slightest  communication  with  her  lover — in  hourly  expec- 
tation that  the  hideous  retaliatory  policy  of  both  nations 
would  be  enforced — she  had  turned  for  assistance  and 
consolation,  and  she  had  turned  in  vain. 

The  dying  condition  of  the  old  minister  made  every 
one  anxious  to  conceal  from  him  any  thing  which  might 
embitter  his  few  last  hours,  and  with  a  self-devotion  rare 
even  in  a  woman,  Sibyl  had  shut  the  secret  of  her  grief  in 
the  recesses  of  her  heart.  As  she  had  told  Mr.  Hamilton 
bhe  had  even  tried  to  smile,  and  as  she  now  stood  looking 
at  him  ghastly  pale,  and  struggling  to  control  her  agony, 
the  kind-hearted  man  absolutely  choked  with  emotion. 

"  Forgive  me,  Mr.  Hamilton,  if  I  have  said  anything  to 
wound  you.  I  know,  I  feel  the  appeal  to  you  is  vain.  I 
am  sure  you  would  help  me  if  you  could  ;  but  oh  !  the 
heart  clings  to  such  frail  supports.  I  thought  you  might 
possibly  do  something." 

"  Sibyl,  I  am  powerless." 


CHAPTER  XI. 


A    QUIET    RUBBER. 

"  Pernicious  gold !    Though  yet  no  temples  rise, 
No  altars  to  thy  name  perfume  the  skies, 
Yet,  is  thy  full  divinity  confessed, 
And  thy  shrine  fixed  in  every  human  breast." 

GIFFORD'S  TRANSLATION. 

ONG  weeks  rolled  by  before  Harcourt  brought 
the  glad  news  that  Mason's  prison  doors  were 
open,  and  that  he  was  once  more  at  liberty  on 
parole.  The  intelligence  had  been  brought  to 
Sir  George  Provost  that  the  British  Government  had  de- 
termined not  to  execute  the  deserters  taken  in  arms  against 
their  flag,  and  that  a  mutual  interchange  of  prisoners  had 
been  agreed  upon. 

The  little  property  which  Edward  possessed  enabled 
him  to  live  in  a  better  manner  than  most  of  the  others, 
and  for  the  few  days  he  was  still  to  be  detained  in  Quebec, 
he  took  a  room  at  the  principal  hotel.  It  was  here  that 
Captain  Quincey  had  his  apartments,  and  almost  the  first 
one  to  greet  him  on  the  evening  of  his  arrival  was  that  of- 
ficer. Although  perfectly  courteous,  even  obsequious  in 
his  manners,  there  was  something  which  m^de  the  shrewd 
("9) 


I2O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

young  American  distrust  and  dislike  his  quondam  host. 
Edward  was  alone ;  Harcourt  had  been  called  away  sud- 
denly, and  was  not  expected  to  return  until  the  next  day. 
Solitary,  in  a  strange  land,  he  gladly  accepted  the  invita- 
tion which  Quincey  extended  to  him  of  passing  the  evening 
in  his  rooms. 

Mrs.  Quincey's  greeting  was  warm  and  cordial.  She 
congratulated  him  on  his  release,  and  on  the  prospect  of 
again  revisiting  his  home.  There  was  less  of  coquetry  in 
her  air,  and  more  of  the  sincerity  of  a  friend,  than  so  very 
short  an  acquaintance  warranted.  Notwithstanding  all  this 
there  was  an  air  of  restraint,  and  it  was  with  relief  that  the 
arrival  of  several  officers  of  the  garrison  broke  up  the 
little  party.  Among  them  was  a  young  fresh  boy,  evidently 
just  released  from  the  restraint  of  a  public  school,  and 
making  his  first  venture  in  the  outside  world.  Cards  were 
introduced,  and  the  majority  of  the  party  were  soon  ab- 
sorbed in  the  excitement  of  high  play.  Young  St.  Clair,  that 
was  the  boy's  name,  seemed  divided  between  his  open 
admiration  of  his  beautiful  hostess  and  a  stripling's  anxiety 
to  take  part  in  the  game,  which  his  seniors  were  carrying 
on  before  him.  Edward  saw  at  once  that  this  latter  inten- 
tion Mrs.  Quincey  was  anxious  to  prevent.  Never  was 
manner  more  fascinating  than  that  which  she  exerted  to 
retain  St.  Clair  by  her  side.  Under  an  influence  which  he 
could  not  resist,  the  boy  became  rapidly  intoxicated  with 
pleasure.  There  was  another  person  who  viewed  the  scene 
with  ill-disguised  dislike,  and  that  was  the  lady's  husband. 
He  interrupted  the  conversation  at  different  times,  com- 
plained of  the  noise  which  broke  into  his  game,  and  at 
length  made  the  demand,  in  the  same  tone,  which  had 


A    QUIET    RUBBER.  121 

struck  Edward    on  his  first   introduction,   that   his   wife 
should  give  them  some  music. 

Mrs.  Quincey  rose  at  once  without  a  word  of  reply, 
and  moved  to  the  piano.  As  Edward  followed  her,  and, 
under  the  pretence  of  arranging  her  music,  bent  forward 
so  as  to  see  her  face,  he  saw  her  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
Intimating  a  desire  he  should  draw  a  chair  to  the  instru- 
ment, she  began  a  conversation  in  so  low  a  tone,  that  the 
air  she  was  playing  formed  a  running  accompaniment  to 
her  words. 

"  Did  I  understand  you  to  say,  Captain  Mason,  that 
gambling  was  unknown  in  the  States  ? " 

"  By  no  means,  my  dear  madam,"  answered  Edward,  "  I 
only  said  that  so  far  as  my  limited  observation  extended, 
I  had  never  seen  cards  introduced  in  ladies'  society." 

"  Yet  my  life  is  spent  in  just  such  scenes  as  these,  with 
no  society  but  men,  whose  only  pleasures  are  shuffling  a 
pack  of  cards,  or  shaking  a  dice  box." 

There  was  something  inexpressibly  sad  in  the  tone  in 
which  these  words  were  spoken,  and  Edward  hesitated  how 
he  should  reply  to  them.  It  was  but  for  a  moment,  how- 
ever, for  shaking  her  head  saucily,  she  turned  the  conver- 
sation on  trifling  matters  with  a  skill  in  repartee  which 
taxed  Mason's  powers  to  the  utmost.  There  was  a  charm 
in  the  manner  which  lured  Edward  on,  until  he  found 
unconsciously  that  he  had  become  extremely  confidential, 
and  that  Mrs.  Quincey  was  well  acquainted  with  Sibyl  and 
his  love. 

There  is  nothing  more  intensely  dangerous  to  a  man, 
and  especially  to  a  young  man,  than  the  position  in  which 
a  handsome  woman  places  him,  in  becoming  his  confidante. 


122  SIBYL    SPENCFR. 

Sympathy  is  so  sweet.  "  Les  absents  'ont  toujours  tort,"  as 
the  French  proverb  has  it.  Unconsciously  our  young  hero 
slipped  from  the  confidential  into  the  affectionate,  and  sad 
to  say,  for  once  Sibyl  was  forgotten.  It  was  not,  however, 
until  raising  his  eyes  to  Mrs.  Quincey's  face,  after  a  speech 
of  uncommon  silliness,  that  he  started  at  the  ghastly 
pallor  and  expression  of  intense  pain  which  passed  over  it. 
Her  eyes  were  fixed  intently  on  a  looking-glass  which  hung 
over  the  instrument  at  which  she  was  seated,  but  which  was 
hidden  from  Edward.  He  turned  his  head — Harcourt  was 
standing  close  behind  her.  Edward  made  a  motion  to  rise 
from  his  seat  to  greet  his  friend,  but  was  restrained  by  the 
hand  of  the  latter,  which  was  placed  kindly  on  his  shoulder. 

"  If  Mrs.  Quincey  will  forgive  my  abrupt  entrance," 
Harcourt  said  in  the  quiet  voice  peculiar  to  him,  "  I  shall  be 
tempted  to  ask  of  her,  the  favor  to  play  for  me  again  that 
low  soft  air  which  certainly  must  be  Spanish  if  my  memory 
does  not  deceive  me." 

There  was  nothing  in  the  request  which  any  gentleman 
might  not  have  made  under  similar  circumstances,  but  a 
shudder  ran  through  Mrs.  Quincey,  and  again  Edward 
noticed  the  ghastly  palor  of  her  face.  She  controlled  her- 
self, however,  with  an  effort,  and  commenced  the  air  which 
she  had  been  playing.  As  she  did  so,  Harcourt  shifted 
his  position  and  stood  close  to  the  piano,  on  the  side  away 
from  Edward  ;  as  he  did  so,  the  music  died  away,  and 
after  a  moment's  silence,  Mrs.  Quincey  caught  up  her  fan 
and  handkerchief  and  abruptly  left  the  room. 

Harcourt  lounged  up  to  the  card  table,  and  stood  -rest- 
ing his  arm  on  the  back  of  Quincey's  chair.  The  play  had 
evidently  been  very  high,  and  the  principal  loser  had  been 


A    QUIET    RUBBER.  123 

the  young  boy,  St.  Clair.  The  hand  which  Harcourt  over- 
looked decided  the  game,  and  it  was  with  an  oath  that  the 
young  man  threw  down  his  cards,  exclaiming  he  would  play 
no  more.  In  this  he  was  joined  by  several  of  the  other 
officers,  who  evidently  were  ill  at  ease,  at  some  occurrence 
which  to  Edward  was  a  mystery. 

St.  Clair  added  up  his  losses,  which  amounted  to  con- 
siderably more  than  a  hundred  pounds,  and  drawing  out 
his  pocket-book,  handed  the  amount  to  his  host,  who  had 
been  the  principal  winner.  The  losses  and  gains  of  the 
others  were  trifling  and  soon  settled.  Captain  Quincey  kept 
his  seat  at  the  table,  and  although  expressing  his  regret  at 
the  breaking  up  of  the  party,  made  in  reality  no  attempt  to 
detain  them  longer,  and  after  a  few  civil  words  they  all 
left  except  Harcourt  and  Edward.  The  latter  was  about 
doing  so,  when  he  was  detained  by  a  quick,  sharp  gesture 
from  his  friend.  Harcourt  had  placed  himself  with  his 
back  to  the  fire,  and  was  keeping  his  eyes  intently  fixed 
on  Quincey,  who  was  rapidly  and  nervously  shuffling  and 
cutting  the  various  packs  of  cards  on  the  table  before  him. 
Suddenly  Quincey  turned,  and  in  a  tone  of  the  most  insult- 
ing rudeness,  asked  Edward  how  "  much  longer  they  were  to 
be  honored  with  his  presence." 

.  "  Sir,"  exclaimed   Edward,  his  cheeks  flushing  at  the 
provocation. 

"  Damned  Yankee  rebel !  "  muttered  the  other. 

Edward  started  forward  to  resent  this  last  speech,  when 
Harcourt  seized  him  by  his  arm  and  almost  forced  him  into 
a  seat.  Taking  one  himself  near  the  table. 

"  Mason  be  quiet,  your  utmost  efforts  cannot  raise  that 
man  to  the  level  of  your  contempt.  How  much  money  did 


124  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

you  win  from  that  boy  St.  Clair  this   evening,"  he   said, 
suddenly  addressing  himself  to  Captain  Quincey. 

"  None  of  your  damned  business,"  muttered  the  other, 
glancing  on  the  calm  handsome  face  before  him  with  a 
black,  bitter  look. 

"  Granted,"  returned  Harcourt,  leaning  back  in  his 
chair  and  playing  with  an  ivory  paper  cutter  he  had  taken 
in  his  hands.  "  Place  the  full  amount  in  an  envelope, 
seal  it  with  your  own  ring,  and  give  it  to  Mr.  Mason 
for  Mr.  St.  Clair.  Pledge  yourself  in  writing  " — he 
paused,  and  uttered  each  word  with  slow  and  distinct 
utterance,  "  never  again,  for  the  reason  of  having  been  dis- 
covered cheating  at  cards,  never  again  to  touch  a  card  while 
in  his  majesty's  service,  and  I,  on  my  part,  will  pledge  my- 
self that  this  affair  shall  be  kept  secret." 

"  And  if  I  will  not,"  said  the  miserable  wretch,  cover- 
ing his  face  with  his  hands,  but  making  no  effort  to  deny 
the  accusation. 

"  But  you  will,"  continued  the  other  ;  "  in  case  you 
refuse,  I  will  before  ten  o'clock  to-morrow  morning  lay  the 
entire  affair  before  Sir  George.  Then  you  know  you  will  be 
cashiered." 

"  You  have  no  proof  ?  " 

"  My  simple  word,  without  an  iota  of  proof,  would  be 
sufficient  to  expel  you  from  Crockford's.  No  matter  " — he 
waved  his  hand  to  the  other  to  keep  silent.  "For  your 
wife's  sake,  I  do  not  wish  to  show  the  proof  I  have." 

"Yes,"  said  Quincey,  taking  his  hands  from  his  face, 
which  was  white,  his  eyes  gleaming  with  vindictive  ven- 
geance. "  Is  it  my  wife  or  your  mistress,  who  influences 
you?" 


A    QUIET    RUBBER.  125 

Not  a  muscle  of  Harcourt's  moved  except  the  hand 
that  held  the  little  ivory  toy  he  was  playing  with,  which 
fell  broken  and  crushed  by  his  iron  grasp  to  the  carpet. 
His  voice  was  even  more  than  usually  low  and  soft  as  he 
continued — 

"  Your  wife's  fair  name,  unfortunately  for  her,  is  not  in 
my  keeping.  This  insult  shall  be  answered  later." 

Harcourt  had  drawn  himself  together  as  he  spoke,  and 
suddenly  springing  from  his  chair,  he  threw  the  other 
violently  on  the  floor,  and  seized  two  playing  cards,  which 
Quincey  had  concealed  on  the  chair  and  which  accounted 
for  his  keeping  his  seat.  Taking  a  candle  in  his  hand,  he 
held  the  cards  up  before  Mason's  eyes,  who  saw  a  number 
of  pin  holes  corresponding  to  the  numbers  marked  on  their 
face. 

"  A  very  stale  trick.  The  poor  devil,"  said  Harcourt, 
contemptuously,  "  does  not  understand  even  his  disgrace- 
ful trade!" 

While  he  was  speaking  Quincey  had  raised  himself  from 
the  floor,  and  for  a  moment  Mason  thought  he  was  about 
to  spring  on  his  accuser.  But  his  heart  failed  him,  and 
with  a  deep,  bitter  groan,  he  threw  himself  into  a  chair 
and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands. 

"  There  is  ink  and  paper,  I  doubt  not,  in  that  secre- 
tary," said  Harcourt,  who  had  again  seated  himself,  point- 
ing to  a  desk  in  the  room.  "  Get  some  and  write  as  I  dic- 
tate. Do  not  hesitate,  it  is  your  only  hope." 

Without  utterjng  a  sound  the  wretched  man  got  the 
writing  materials  and  Harcourt  dictated. 

"  I,  Joseph  Quincey,  Capt.  in  his  Majesty's  4oth  reg.  of 


126  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

Infantry,  now  on  the  staff,  having  been  discovered  cheat- 
ing at  cards,  do,  in  consideration  of  a  promise  of  silence 
on  the  part  of  Capt  the  Hon.  Charles  Harcourt,  pledge 
myself,  never,  under  any  circumstances,  to  touch  a  card  or 
dice  when  in  the  presence  of  any  officer  of  his  Majesty's 
service,  his  allies  or  those  of  his  enemies." 

"JOSEPH  QUINCEY. 
"Dated  Nov.,  1813." 

"  Capt.  Mason,  will  you  have  the  kindness  to  sign  that 
as  a  witness  ?  So  that's  done.  Now  for  the  money." 

*  Quincey  silently  enclosed  the  bank  note  he  had  received 
that  evening,  sealed  and  directed  the  package,  and  tossed 
it  on  the  table  before  Mason.  The  look  which  accom- 
panied this  Edward  remembered  for  years.  Every  evil 
passion  the  human  heart  can  hold  was  stamped  on  his 
face. 

"  Now,  gentlemen,  if  you  have  sufficiently  accomplished 
my  humiliation,  perhaps  you  will  still  allow  me  to  call  this 
room  my  own." 

"  Certainly,  certainly,"  hastily  said  Harcourt ;  "  but 
there  remains  one  thing  more.  You  spoke  of  my  relations 
to  your  wife.  As  a  gentleman,  I  cannot  allow  such  an  im- 
putation to  rest  unchallenged." 

"  Go,  go,  Mr.  Harcourt,"  said  Mrs.  Quincey,  who  had 
entered  the  room  noiselessly.  "  There  was,  I  thought,  no 
amount  of  ignominy  which  had  not  been  heaped  upon  me 
by  this  man  ;  but  it  was  reserved  for  this  night  to  show 
that  there  can  exist  a  human  being  so  base  as  to  be  will- 
ing to  purchase  immunity  from  personal  danger,  at  the 
expense  of  his  honor." 

Quincey  turned  round  and  half  raised  his  hand,  as  if  to 


A    QUIET    RUBBER. 

strike  the  woman  who  spoke.  He  fell  back,  however,  at 
the  fire  which  flashed  from  her  eyes. 

"  It  would  not  be  the  first  time  you  have  struck  me  ; 
but  that  you  will  never  do  again,"  she  said,  speaking 
quickly.  "  I  have  been  your  slave,  but  the  words  you  have 
this  night  uttered  have  made  me  a  free  woman.  Mr. 
Harcoutt,  we  never  meet  again  ;  to  the  many  acts  of  kind- 
ness you  have  done  me,  add  this  one  more,  forget  that 
there  exists  such  a  creature  as  Lucy  Quincey."  She  cov- 
ered her  face  with  her  hands  and  sobbed  .audibly. 

"  How  pretty  !  so  touching,"  said  her  husband,  sneer- 
ingly  leaning  back  in  his  chair.  "  Don't  mind  me,  I  am 
a  cheat  and  a  gambler,  so,  of  course,  my  wife's  honor  is  as 
nothing  to  me.  Perhaps  you  would  like  Mr.  Mason  and 
myself  to  retire." 

"  For  God's  sake  hush  !  "  said  Mason  ;  "  remember,  at 
least,  you  are  a  man  and  she  is  a  woman." 

"  And  as  such  she  is  my  wife,"  broke  in  Quincey,  "  and 
by  the  Eternal,  bad  as  I  am,  I  will  keep  her  pure  !  "  and 
his  sneering  laugh  made  Mason's  blood  run  cold. 

Harcourt,  who  had  been  writing  on  a  slip  of  paper,  now 
turned,  and  after  showing  it  to  Quincey,  said  : 

"  Mrs.  Quincey,  I  will  try  and  forget  every  thing,  but 
that  there  exists  in  this  world  a  sad,  suffering  woman.  On 
this  paper  I  have  written  the  address  of  my  London  agent. 
In  the  life  which,  in  the  future,  in  all  probability,  will  be 
your  lot,  there  may  come  a  morning  when  human  aid  is 
wanted ;  a  line  sent  there  will  always  reach  me,  and  in  all 
circumstances  and  at  all  times,  you  have  a  devoted  friend 
in  Charles  Harcourt."  He  laid  the  slip  of  paper  as  he 
spoke  on  the  table,  took  the  hand  she  extended  to  him, 


128  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

raised  it  respectfully  to  his  lips,  bowed  slightly  to  Quincey, 
and  with  Mason  left  the  room. 

Mason's  room  was  in  a  wing  of  the  hotel,  a  fire  was 
burning  on  the  hearth  and  by  it  he  lighted  a  candle. 
Harcourt  had  bitten  his  lips  until  the  blood  fell  in  drops 
on  his  shirt  front,  and  he  trembled  as  a  man  does  in  an 
ague.  Mason  immediately  poured  out  some  brandy  which 
Harcourt  drank  off,  then  he  spoke. 

"  As  Lucy  Quincey  said,  forget  this  night,  Mason,  and 
be  thankful  no  such  shadow  is  thrown  over  your  life."  He 
leaned  back  in  his  chair,  shutting  his  eyes,  and  for  several 
moments  both  men  kept  silence. 

"There  is  one  thing,  Harcourt,  what  am  I  to  do  with 
this  money  ?  It  has  been  committed  to  me,  and  what  shall 
I  say  when  I  deliver  it  to  Mr.  St.  Clair?  " 

"  Oh,  I  had  forgotten,"  said  Harcourt,  sitting  up  in  his 
chair,  his  old  manner  coming  back  to  him  and  speaking  in 
his  usual  drawling  way.  "  You  won't  mind  just  stepping 
with  me  to  St.  Glair's  quarters.  I  can  give  you  a  shake 
down  for  the  night,  you  know,  or  you  can  come  back 
here." 

When  Mr.  St.  Glair's  quarters  were  reached,  Mason 
glanced  for  the  first  time  at  his  friend.  He  was  as  calm 
and  polished  as  ever.  He  briefly  related  the  incident. 
"  I  suspected  for  some  little  time,  that  Quincey  was  not  ex- 
actly square,  you  know,  so  I  stood  sideways  by  the  table 
and  saw  him  while  you  and  he  were  playing,  change  the 
cards.  I  pledged  my  word  as  to  silence ;  he  is  never  to 
play  any  more,  and  all  that.  Good-night.  Come  Mason, 
St.  Clair  is  a  richer,  if  not  a  happier  man." 

"  Confound  it,"  said  the  young  officer,  "  I   wish  you 


A    QUIET    RUBBER.  1 29 

had  not  done  any  thing.  I  would  much  rather  have  lost 
the  hundred  pounds.  How  can  I  ever  speak  to  that  pretty 
woman  again  !  " 

"  Never  speak  to  her  again,  my  dear  boy,"  said  Har- 
court,  "  it  is  the  only  kindness  you  can  do  her ;  again  good- 
night ! " 

When  they  were  in  the  street  Mason  turned  to  his  com- 
panion anxious  to  have  an  explanation ;  but  the  other 
took  him  by  the  arm,  and  drawing  him  along,  said,  "  Not 
one  word  until  we  are  within  four  walls." 

When  Captain  Harcourt's  quarters  were  reached,  he 
motioned  Mason  to  a  chair,  placed  on  the  table  a  box  of 
cigars,  a  decanter  of  brandy,  and  some  water.  For  sev- 
eral minutes  he  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the  room, 
then  threw  himself  into  a  chair,  and  drawing  the  cigar  box 
to  him,  he  muttered  in  a  low  tone,  as  he  busied  himself  in 
selecting  one, 

"  Look  here,  Mason,  I  am  not  a  man  of  many  profes- 
sions, as  you  have  probably  seen,  but  I  am  awfully  fond 
of  you.  I  took  a  fancy  to  you  that  night  in  camp,  when 
you  were  first  brought  in,  you  were  so  calm  and  quiet,  so 
full  of  pluck,  you  know." 

"  You  are  very  good  to  say  so,"  answered  Mason  ;  "I 
am  sure  nobody  could  have  been  kinder ;  but  what  has 
this  to  do  with  the  event  of  to-night  ?  " 

"  Much  more  than  you  think,':  replied  his  friend  ;  "  in 
the  first  place,  I  must  have  some  one  to  talk  to  ;  in  the 
next,  I  came  very  near  getting  you  into  a  scrape." 

"  How  so  ?  "  asked  Mason. 

"  Why,  you  see,"  continued  the  other,  "  that  black- 
guard saw  I  had  found  him  out.  If  he  could  have  forced 

9 


I3O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

a  fight  out  of  you,  he  thought  I  might  be  made  to  hold  my 
tongue.  He  is  the  best  shot  in  the  army.  I  know  what 
you  would  say.  It  don't  amount  to  much,  but  he  might 
have  fired  just  a  second  before  time,  and  then — 

"  You  said,"  interrupted  Mason,  "  you  wished  some 
one  to  talk  to,  what  did  you  mean  ?  " 

It  was  full  a  minute  before  Harcourt  replied.  The 
smoke  rolled  in  regular  clouds  from  his  lips,  and  his 
features  had  assumed  a  cold,  hard,  stony  look,  unusual  to 
them ;  at  length  he  broke  the  silence — 

"  I  am  nephew  and  heir  presumptive  to  Lord ,  as 

you  may  have  heard.  The  son  of  his  younger  and  only 
brother,  who  was  killed  some  where  in  the  Hill  country  in 
India.  I  was  brought  up  in  the  Hall,  and  fitted  for  Eton 
by  the  father  of  this  Lucy  Quincey,  the  incumbent  of 

the  living  at .     All  my  vacations  were  passed  at  the 

old  house,  and  I  need  not  enter  into  that  point,  it  is  suffi- 
cient to  say,  she  and  I  became  madly  in  love  with  each 
other.  After  I  entered  '  Christ  Church '  I  told  the  old 
gentleman  of  my  passion,  and  my  intention  of  marrying 
Lucy.  He  heard  me  all  through,  calmly,  and  then  said. 
"The  title,  if  I  never  marry  and  have  children,  will  be 
yours.  The  estate,  with  the  exception  of  a  few  hundreds  a 
year,  I  can  do  what  I  please  with,  marry  Lucy  and — why  go 
on  with  the  old  story  !  In  three  months  I  was  in  Spain 
on  Picton's  staff,  got  mentioned  in  the  Gazette,  sent  home 
with  dispatches,  and  found  Lucy  gone — married  !  "  He 
stopped  and  poured  out  a  glass  of  brandy,  to  which  he 
slowly  added  the  water  drop  by  drop. 

"  I  have  tried  this — gambling — every  excitement  that 
men  find  so  sweet.  My  uncle  is  an  old,  broken  man,  and  I 


A    QUIET    RUBBER.  13! 

heir  to  twenty  thousand  a  year  and  liberty  to  spend  what 
I  choose,  and  I  would  give  it  all  to  forget  the  sob  which 
still  rings  in  my  ears  of  that  broken-hearted  woman." 

Mason  was  very  much  affected.  There  was  nothing 
which  he  could  either  do  or  say,  he  could  only  hold  out  his 
hand,  which  the  other  wrung  warmly. 

"  I  have  known  of  Quincey's  cheating  for  some  time, 
and  as  I  was  responsible  in  some  manner  for  his  introduc- 
tion, I  felt  my  duty  as  a  man  was  to  stop  him.  God 
knows  I  little  thought  Lucy  would  have  heard  what 
passed  ! " 

"  Harcourt,  what  will  become  of  them  ?  That  man  will 
not  stay  here  after  this." 

"  Go  into  the  States,  probably,"  answered  the  other. 
"  You  get  most  of  the  offscourings  of  our  society.  Should 
you  ever  meet  her,  help  Lucy  for  my  sake.  Now  see,  old 
boy,  to-morrow  or  next  day  you  will  be  exchanged,  and  we 
may  never  meet  again.  Don't  forget  her."  He  held  out 
his  hand,  Mason  saw  he  wanted  to  be  alone.  After  a  few 
words  he  stepped  to  the  door.  "  Say,  Mason,  old  fellow, 
do  you  ever  pray  ?  " 

Astonished   at  such   a   question,   Edward   hesitated   a 
moment  and  then  said. 

"  I  am  not  a  professor,  as  our  people  call  it,  Harcourt, 
of  religion,  but  I  try  and  remember  my  duty  to  God." 

"  Then  say  a  short  one  for  a  poor,  frail,  broken-hearted 
woman,"  as  he  said  this  Harcourt  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands  and  dropped  his  head  on  the  table.  Mason 
could  see  the  convulsive  sobs  which  shook  his  powerful 
frame.  Edward  softly  closed  the  door  and  left  him  alone 
with  his  sorrow. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

THE     QUID     NUNCS. 

"  Although  the  vine  its  fruit  deny, 
The  budding  fig-tree  droop  and  die, 
No  oil  the  olive  yield." 

ONDERDONK. 

HE  excitement  and  discontent  which  the  con- 
duct of  the  war  produced  in  all  the  New  Eng- 
land States,  amounted  at  this  its  second  year, 
^  almost  to  armed  revolution.  Far  from  learn- 
ing by  its  previous  mistakes,  the  administration  pursued 
the  same  ruinous  policy,  of  openly  avowing  its  determi- 
nation to  outrage  those  fundamental  principles  of  civil 
liberty  so  dear  to  the  rugged  New  England  yeoman.  The 
garrisons  in  the  various  forts  on  the  seaboard  were  with- 
drawn and  sent  to  swell  the  number  of  victims  daily  offered 
up  on  the  Canada  line.  The  coasts  were  everywhere  in- 
sulted ;  a  large  section  of  Massachusetts,  now  known  as  the 
state  of  Maine,  was  overrun  and  permanently  held  by  the 
enemy.  Every  port  was  blockaded,  so  that  not  even  a 
fishing-smack  could  escape.  Cut  off  from  commerce,  then 
almost  their  only  resource,  the  people  groaned  under  the 
double  burden  of  taxation  and  want  of  money.  Not  a 
single  bank  but  had  suspended  payment.  Of  gold  and 


THE    QUID    NUNCS.  133 

silver,  there  absolutely  was  none.  The  busy,  thriving 
towns,  so  lately  the  seats  of  healthy  commercial  activity, 
were  now  silent  and  deserted.  Joined  to  all  this,  was 
a  fixed  belief  in  the  minds  of  a  majority  of  the  population, 
that  the  war  itself  was  unjust,  iniquitous,  and  unnecessary. 
Public  meetings  were  held,  seditious  and  inflammatory 
public  speeches  were  not  only  listened  to  but  openly 
applauded.  The  legislatures  of  the  different  States  were 
overwhelmed  by  petitions,  demanding  resistance  to  the 
acts  of  the  general  government.  When  affairs  were  in 
this  condition,  Massachusetts  made  a  call  for  a  convention. 
To  the  conservative  leaders  in  Connecticut  this  looked  al- 
most like  a  separation  of  their  Union.  Mr.  Hamilton,  one 
of,  if  not  the  very  ablest  statesman,  stood  appalled.  An 
absence  of  several  months  in  Washington  had  prevented 
him  from  fully  appreciating  the  sentiment  of  the  people- 
That  class  in  which  he  had  always  found  the  strongest 
supporters,  and  of  which  our  friend  Deacon  Knapp  may 
be  regarded  as  an  example,  were,  if  not  in  favor  of  actual 
separation,  certainly  doing  nothing  to  prevent  it.  Doctor 
Spencer's  long  illness  had  removed  him  from  any  active 
part.  Mr.  Hamilton  knew  whichever  way  the  church 
threw  her  weight,  that  way  would  Connecticut  act.  He 
was  inexpressibly  touched  at  the  burst  of  affection  which 
greeted  him  on  his  entry  into  Doctor  Spencer's  room. 

"  Hamilton,  my  friend,  my  pupil,  my  adviser,  are  you 
restored  to  me."  The  two  men  held  each  other  closely  by 
the  hand,  and  a  silence  of  several  moments  followed.  Mr. 
Hamilton  seated  himself  in  the  chair  the  Deacon  vacated, 
and  was  about  making  some  inquiries  as  to  his  friend's 
health,  when  he  was  stopped  by  the  Doctor. 


134  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  Pshaw !  "  he  said  ;  "  what  matter  the  health  of  a  frail 
old  man.  Dark  rumors  have  reached  me,  even  in  this 
solitude,  rumors  of  strife,  sedition,  and  even  of  division. 
Can  it  be  true.  Watchman  !  tell  me  of  the  night." 

"  Alas,  Spencer,  it  is  but  too  true  !  Where  is  our  ark? 
what  is  our  refuge  ?  " 

"  Here  in  the  hearts  of  our  northern  yeomen,"  said  the 
old  clergyman.  "  Division  !  it  must  be  checked,  and  by 
such  men  as  you,  Hamilton,  who  still  cling  to  the  old  faith." 

"  Doctor  Spencer,"  said  Deacon  Knapp,  "  you  have 
been  a  man  of  God  from  your  youth.  You  have  been 
placed  over  us  in  the  flesh  to  minister  to  us  in  the  spirit. 
And  you  are  bound  to  lift  up  your  voice  and  testify  to  the 
truth,  as  it  is  shown  you,  before  the  whole  congregation." 

"  Such  have  ever  been  my  efforts,  Deacon,  so  far  as  frail 
human  nature  would  permit.  But  what  can  I  do  ?  Sick, 
old,  helpless.  One  among  so  many." 

"  Much  !  "  broke  in  Mr.  Hamilton.  "  I  myself  came 
here  to  obtain,  if  I  could,  your  influence ;  but  I  dread  the 
effect  on  your  health." 

The  Doctor  waved  his  hand  impatiently. 

"  Do  you  say  that  we,  the  yoemen — for  I  am  one,  and  I 
accept  the  word,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  said  the  Deacon,  with  a 
dignity  at  variance  with  his  usual  manner — "  are  bound  to 
submit  to  tyranny  and  oppression.  To  see  ourselves  ground 
down  between  the  upper  and  the  lower  millstone.  Our 
sons  slaughtered,  the  substance  of  our  little  ones  wasted  and 
destroyed,  to  prosecute  a  war  which  we  know  to  be  not 
only  useless,  but  wicked  in  the  sight  of  man,  and  before 
the  God  of  Israel.  And  I,  for  one,  hope  that  we — we,  the 
people — in  whom  is  all  power,  form  a  confederacy,  welcom- 


THE    QUID    NUNCS.  135 

ing  in  such  other  sister  States  as  feel  as  we  do,  under  the 
protection  of  England." 

"  Hush  !  old  man,"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hamilton,  springing 
from  his  chair.  "This  must  not,  this  shall  not  be. 
Spencer,  the  plague  has  indeed  broken  forth,  and  you  and 
your  brethren  must,  like  Aaron  of  old,  stand  between  '  the 
living  and  the  dead,  and  stay  the  plague.'  " 

"  Will  the  people  submit  to  a  Convention — will  they  be 
bound  by  its  ruling  ?  "  asked  the  Doctor. 

"  These  are  questions  I  every  day  ask  myself  in  vain. 
The  overwhelming  majority  which  sides  with  this  old  man 
will  make  our  words,  I  fear,  only  empty  sound." 

"  Even  that  will  do  good,  if  the  words  are  words  of  wis- 
dom, temperately,  calmly  spoken,"  said  the  Doctor.  "  But 
can  we  trust  them  ? — will  not  the  delegates  themselves  be 
affected  by  the  insults,  the " 

"  And  why  shouldn't  it  affect  them,"  broke  in  the 
Deacon.  "  Why  should  not  these  men  call  a  spade  a  spade  ? 
Why  should  we  teach  our  children  to  huzza,  every  fourth  of 
July,  at  the  noble  action  of  our  forefathers  in  signing  the 
Declaration  of  Independence,  and  we,  their  children,  sit 
down  calmly  under  a  tyranny  ten  times  more  grinding.  Oh, 
don't  shake  your  head  at  me,  Hamilton.  The  same  Eng- 
lish blood  flows  in  both  our  veins,  although  your  ancestors 
were  gentlemen  and  mine  only  yeomen.  They  both  fought 
at  Naseby  and  Worcester,  and  they  were  both  willing  to 
suffer  for  conscience  sake." 

"  You  ask  why  the  reasons  Mr.  Hamilton  has  named 
should  not  sway  the  delegates  to  this  Convention,  Deacon 
Knapp,"  said  the  old  clergyman,  raising  himself  with  diffi- 
culty on  the  sofa  on  which  he  was  lying,  a  faint  color  appear- 


136  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

ing  on  his  cheek,  in  the  excitement  of  the  moment.  "  I  will 
tell  you.  England  denied  to  us  the  right  of  representation, 
and  we  have  it.  We  may  be  overruled,  but  we  still  have 
the  right  of  voting.  Our  representatives  are  a  minority — • 
an  abused,  a  trampled  on  minority,  if  you  will — but  they 
still  hold  their  seats  in  the  halls  of  our  Senate.  The  taxes 
under  which  we  groan  are  laid  on  us  by  representatives, 
freely  chosen  by  the  people  themselves.  The  common  law 
of  England,  our  birthright  and  our  heritage,  is  still  admin- 
istered by  our  courts.  No  Lords  in  Council,  no  Star 
Chamber  spread  their  gloomy  horrors  over  our  land.  Caste 
is  unknown  among  our  people.  Religion,  untrammelled  by 
an  hierarchal  state,  spreads  its  fair  beams  over  our  country. 
Education  is  free  and  open  to  all,  Negro  slavery,  the  blot 
on  our  institutions,  must  in  the  course  of  a  few  years  die 
out,  and  then  we  shall  stand,  a  free,  independent,  homo- 
geneous people,  owing  it  all  under  God,  to  the  very  Con- 
stitution which  you,  vain  old  man,  would  rend  asunder. 
Go  on,  Hamilton ;  urge  on  this  Convention  by  pen  and 
word.  Debate,  remonstrate,  supplicate  even,  but  never 
rebel.  I  am  weary  now,"  he  said,  sinking  back,  then  clasp- 
ing his  hands,  he  added,  "  Let  us  pray."  The  old  man's 
face  became  almost  angelic,  his  eyes  were  suffused  with 
tears,  and  his  voice  shook  and  trembled,  but  became 
stronger  as  he  went  on. 

"  Oh  thou,  who  art  the  only  Shepherd  of  the  sheep  ;  who 
leadeth  thy  people  by  the  hand  through  the  dark  valley 
of  the  shadow,  and  bringest  them  to  the  living  waters, 
comfort,  protect,  and  bless  this  thy  people.  Give  them 
true  religion.  Make  them  to  love,  comfort,  and  protect 
each  other.  Establish  their  earthly  kingdom  in  righteous- 


THE    QUID    NUNCS.  137 

ness,  as  an  undivided  kingdom.  Crush  out  all  treasons, 
rebellions,  and  fratricidal  strife.  Bless  their  rulers,  en- 
lighten their  minds,  and  give  them  pure  hearts  and  clean 
hands.  Relieve,  pity,  and  forgive  this  thy  servant,  who 
now  prayeth.  Amen." 

When  the  two  men  reached  the  street,  the  Deacon  was 
the  first  to  break  the  silence. 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  have  been  wrong.  I  have  let  angry 
feelings  and  bitterness  of  spirit  lead  me  away.  I  am  what 
Doctor  Spencer  called  me — a  vain  old  man.  Go  on  in  this 
good  work.  Gather  together  the  elders  of  Israel,  and 
speak  words  of  warning  to  this  stiff-necked  and  rebellious 
generation.  From  this  moment  I  will  aid  you  with  heart 
'and  hand." 

"  I  knew  you  would  come  out  right,  Deacon,"  said  the 
other,  warmly  wringing  his  hand.  "  It  is  not  from  the  men 
of  your  principles  that  danger  will  come  to  our  beloved 
country.  The  struggle  which  will  strain  our  institutions 
will  come  from  the  unprincipled  Southern  adventurer,  when 
he  strives  to  retain  in  bondage  a  class  of  men  whose 
only  crime  is  their  color,  and  whom  the  resistless  current 
of  human  progress  will  set  at  liberty,  as  surely  as  the  day 
star  is  on  high." 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,  to  change  the  subject,  what  will  be- 
come of  this  boy  here,  this  Edward  Mason.  My  heart 
bleeds  to  see  Sibyl's  sad  face.  I  shun  the  subject.  I  pre- 
tend not  to  know  he  is  trembling  over  the  grave,  because  I 
have  not  the  courage  to  tell  her  what  I  think." 

"  Alas,  my  old  friend !  I  was  not  able  to  act  as  you 
have  done.  That  lovely  girl  besought  me  to  shield  and 
save  her  lover.  I  would  gladly  do  so,  at  the  risk  of  my 


138  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

life.     My  only  hope  is  in  the  clemency  of  the  British  gov- 
ernment." 

"  Are  our  people  such  darned  fools  as  to  think  any  gov- 
ernment on  earth  is  going  to  give  up  the  right  to  punish 
desertion  of  its  soldiers  in  the  very  face  of  the  enemy, 
and  by  calling  them  American  citizens,  make  them  any 
the  less  traitors  ?  " 

"  My  dear  sir,"  said  Hamilton,  "  the  Irish  vote  controls 
the  State  of  New  York,  and  with  that  State  rests  the  dura- 
bility of  the  Democratic  power.  Until  the  election  is  over 
not  one  step  will  James  Madison  rescind.  My  only  hope 
is  that  the  British  Government  will  delay  until  after  the 
election,  and  then  an  exchange  of  prisoners  may  be  made." 

"  But  we  are  bringing  this  war  back  into  barbarism," 
said  the  Deacon.  "  One  retaliatory  measure  leads  to  an- 
other. Defenceless  towns  will  be  sacked  and  burned  next, 
and  women  and  children  turned  houseless  and  homeless 
in  the  field  to  find  shelter  where  they  may." 

"  Only  too  true.  Have  you  not  heard  that  the  threat 
has  been  made  of  making  the  Canadian  peasantry  regret 
not  having  aided  our  arms." 

"  Now  look  here,  Mr.  Hamilton,  do  not  let  us  talk  any 
more  politics.  The  solemn  sadness  of  that  scene  is  creep- 
ing over  me.  That  good  old  man,  that  fervent  prayer,  that 
long  lingering  hope  in  the  future.  You  can  do  nothing  for 
that  boy  ? " 

"  For  the  twentieth  time,  I  say,  Deacon  Knapp,  abso- 
lutely nothing." 

"  Hamilton,  what  is  the  matter  with  you  ?  You  are  not 
what  you  used  to  be.  The  same  intellect  is  there,  and  the 
same  noble  heart,  but  the  spirit  is  not  the  same  like.  Con- 


THE    QUID    NUNCS.  139 

fide  in  me.  It  does  a  man,  even  so  strong  a  man  as  you 
are,  ever  so  much  good  to  pour  out  his  spirit  even  to  some 
poor  weak  vessel  like  unto  me." 

"  No,  Knapp,  not  even  to  you.  When  a  man  reaches 
middle  life  he  often  finds,  that  having  sowed  the  wind  he 
must  reap  the  whirlwind  alone.  Good-bye." 

The  two  men  parted,  and  as  the  Deacon  stood  looking 
after  the  retreating  figure  of  the  statesman,  he  muttered  in 
soliloquy — 

"  There's  the  best  among  them  going  to  wreck.  I  won- 
der what  has  caused  this  change.  He  could  have  had  any 
office  he  wanted.  'Tain't  that.  Can't  be  possible  there's 
a  woman  at  the  bottom — Sibyl " — he  whistled  softly,  and 
added,  "  I'll  ask  our  Sally,  she's  smart  like  all  women  at 
these  things — she  will  know." 

The  Deacon  had  taken  but  few  steps  from  the  place 
where  he  had  been  standing  when  he  was  accosted  by  a 
man  in  the  worn  habiliments  of  a  soldier,  who,  without 
speaking,  stood  in  front  of  him  pulling  off  at  the  same  time 
the  cap  he  wore.  The  Deacon  hardly  gave  him  a  glance, 
but  supposing  him  to  be  one  of  the  numerous  vagrants 
who  made  the  war  a  pretext  for  mendicity  and  idleness,  was 
about  delivering  a  homily  on  the  sin  he  was  committing, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  extended  a  few  coppers.  Stern 
and  inflexible  as  were  his  principles,  the  Deacon's  pity 
often  gave  "  ere  charity  began." 

"  Fve  no  objection  to  your  money,  Deacon,"  said  a 
well-remembered  voice,  "  but  I'd  rather  earn  it.  And  as 
for  the  matter  of  that,  I'm  not  so  hard  up  as  I  looks.  Sup- 
pose we  shake  hands." 

"  Bless  my  soul ! "   said  the  Deacon,  wiping  his  eyes 


I4O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

with  his  handkerchief,  "  if  it  isn't  Eph.  Where  on  earth 
did  you  spring  from  ? " 

"  Well,  now,  you  see  the  time  I  listed  for,"  returned 
Eph.,  warmly  shaking  the  extended  hand,  "  came  to  an 
end,  and  as  Ed.  was  no  longer  there,  I  thought  I'd  run 
home  and  see  the  folks,  'specially  the  Parson.  Kinder 
thought  from  what  I  heard,  the  old  man  was  a-failing." 

11  Bless  me,  how  the  boy  is  changed  !  "  said  the  other, 
disregarding  the  last  inquiry,  and  holding  him  off  at  arm's- 
length.  "  Playing  soldier  seems  to  agree  with  you." 

"  You  may  call  it  playing  if  you  like,  and  I  sha'n't  con- 
tradict you.  But  the  old  gentleman  isn't  dead,  that  ye 
don't  answer  a  civil  question,  is  he  ?  " 

"  No,  no,  he  is  not  dead.  That  is,  the  mind's  here,  and 
the  sweet  loving  heart's  here,"  continued  the  old  man,  his 
voice  trembling  as  he  drew  the  other  on  by  the  arm  in  the 
direction  of  his  farm.  "  But  the  soul  is  anchored  fast  on 
the  Rock  of  Ages.  You  had  better  come  and  eat  your 
dinner  with  us.  The  Doctor  has  had  a  little  too  much  ex- 
citement this  morning,  and  the  women  folks  '11  be  sure  to 
tell  him  ye  were  here.  In  the  cool  of  the  evening — in 
the  cool  of  the  evening,  we  will  come  up  together,  or  we'll 
drive  Sally  and  the  baby  up.  May  cheer  her  up  a  bit." 

"  Cheer  who,"  asked  Eph.,  looking  at  him  with  wonder- 
ing eyes.  "  The  old  lady." 

"  No,  Sibyl.  She  mourns  for  the  sick  father  and  the 
dead  lover,  like  Rachel  in  the  Holy  Book." 

"  Dead  !  "   screamed  Eph.,  "  what,  Ed.  dead  ?  " 

"  He  might  as  well  be,"  muttered  the  other.  "  He  is 
one  of  them  hostages  the  British  hold." 

Ephraim's  puritanical   education   gave   way,  and   the 


THE    QUID    NUNCS. 

oath  he  uttered  was  fearful.  For  the  first  time  in  his  life 
the  Deacon  listened  to  profanity  without  administering  a 
rebuke. 

"  What.  Ed.,  the  boy  I  played  with,  the  man  I've  loved, 
going  to  be  shot  like  a  dog,  and  I  here  safe  and  sound. 
And  Sibyl,  old  man,  tell  me  about  Sibyl.  How  does  she 
bear  this  ?  " 

"  Sweetly,  sweetly,"  answered  the  Deacon.  "  They 
have  kept  it  from  the  Doctor,  and  she  goes  round  the 
house  so  pale  and  sad,  it  makes  your  very  heart  bleed. 
The  Doctor's  one  of  the  elect.  We  know  it,  we  feel  it, 
and  He  will  '  temper  the  wind  to  the  shorn  lamb.'  Don't 
you  think  so,  Eph.  ?  " 

He  asked  the  last  question  almost  pleadingly,  as  if  his 
heart  broke  through  the  stern  fatalism  of  his  creed,  and  he 
wished  to  be  assured  that  mercy  and  love  would  be  the 
portion  of  the  suffering  girl.  Eph.'s  heart  was  too  full 
for  words,  he  could  only  nod  an  assent.  It  was  some 
minutes  before  the  silence  was  broken.  When  he  asked 
suddenly — 

"  Where's  Sam.  Griswold — gone  too  ?  " 

"  Not  as  we  knows  of,  thanks  be  to  God  !  He's  up  there 
somewhere  about  the  lakes.  Likely  enough  we  will  hear 
of  his  death.  Most  of  the  good  ones  go  first." 

"  Of  course  they  do,"  said  the  other  ;  "  but  that's  luck. 
But  to  think  of  poor  Ed.  shut  up  for  long  weary  weeks, 
thinking  every  morning  when  the  sun  rises  he  is  shining  on 
his  last  day.  Not  a  friend  to  speak  to,  not  a  word  of  sym- 
pathy. Oh !  its  too  hard." 

"  Eph.,  my  son,  when  you  get  down  afore  Sally  you 
must  keep  your  dander  up  a  little.  I  don't  wonder  she 


142  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

trembles  every  time  any  one  conies  by  the  door.     She  is 
so  like  her  mother.     So  like.     Ah,  me  !  " 

Mrs.  Griswold  justified  the  Deacon's  statement  when 
she  appeared  at  the  door,  her  face  worn  and  anxious.  She 
had  her  baby  on  her  arm,  a  fat,  healthy  boy,  who,  young  as 
he  was,  crowed  with  delight  at  seeing  his  grandfather.  To 
have  some  one  come  fresh  from  the  army  who  could  talk 
and  tell  all  those  things  which  they  most  longed  to  know, 
was  a  pleasure  not  easily  obtained  in  a  quiet  New  England 
village.  Eph.  was  by  nature  a  keen  observer,  and  his  mil- 
itary life  had  not  lasted  so  long  as  to  turn  him  into  a  ma- 
chine, and  now  loosened  from  the  restraints  of  discipline, 
his  comments  were  more  than  free  on  the  conduct  of  the 
war. 


CHAPTER  XIII. 


FALLEN    FROM   GRACE. 

"  For  those  that  fly  and  fight  again, 
Which  he  can  never  do  that's  slain." 

BUTLER. 

HE  Deacon  was  as  good  as  his  word,  and  in 
the  evening  he  drove  Eph.  down  to  Doctor 
Spencer's.  The  old  gentleman  hailed  the 
boy's  return  with  the  affection  of  a  father 
He  held  him  at  arm's-length,  closely  studied  his  face  and 
form,  and  laughed  for  the  first  time  in  many  days,  with 
some  of  the  ring  of  old  times. 

"  Ton  my  word,"  he  said,  '  Horrida  belli,'  if  she  sac- 
rifices ruthlessly,  certainly  adorns  her  victims.  Dresses, 
that  is  the  proper  word,  is  it  not,  eh  ?  Mr.  Hamilton.  Just 
look,  mother,  our  Eph.,  whose  fondness  for  bread  and 
sugar  overcame  every  restraint,  absolutely  a  sergeant  in 
the  regular  army.  Oh,  you  need  not  look  disdainfully  at 
my  military  talk,  I  too,  have  girded  my  sword  upon  my 
thigh  and  ridden  in  the  ranks  of  war !  " 

"I  remember,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  Doctor  Spencer  con- 
tinued, pressing  Eph.  into  a  seat  by  his  side  and  still  af- 
fectionately holding  his  hand,  "  I  remember  in  the  Sara- 
toga campaign  delivering  a  discourse  on  the  expression 
'  Northern  Army,'  purposely  omitting  to  give  chapter  and 
verse.  There  was  hardly  a  man  in  the  regiment  who  did 
not  read  his  Bible  through,  to  have  the  satisfaction  of  find- 

(M3) 


144  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

ing  the  chaplain  in  error."  Doctor  Spencer  lay  back  on 
his  couch  and  laughed  heartily  at  the  remembrance  of  a 
joke,  so  strictly  in  accordance  with  the  Puritan  humor  of 
New  England. 

Taking  advantage  of  the  break  in  her  father's  atten- 
tion to  Eph.,  which  Mr.  Hamilton's  answer  caused,  Sibyl, 
who  was  trembling  with  impatience  to  question  the  young 
man  on  the  smallest  particular  which  concerned  Edward, 
beckoned  him  to  follow  her  from  the  room.  Probably  in 
Eph.'s  life  he  had  never  been  so  thoroughly  uncomfortable. 
His  keen  eye  had  shown  him  the  deep  settled  look  of  an- 
guish which  the  girl's  face  wore,  and  he  hesitated  to  relate 
to  her  his  apparent,  though  not  real,  desertion  of  Edward. 
He  stood  before  her  more  like  a  guilty  schoolboy  than  the 
brave,  iron-armed  soldier  he  really  was. 

"  Well,  well,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  and  manner  at  strange 
variance  with  her  soft,  loving  nature.  "  So  you  have  come 
back,  and  where  is  he  ?  Can't  you  answer  me — have  you 
lost  your  tongue  ?  " 

"Now  you  see,  Sibyl,  somehow  we  got  kinder  sepa- 
rated that  evening,  and  as  I  had  charge  of  some  ten  of 
our  fellows,  I  didn't  have  a  chance  to  look  after  Ned,  as  I 
should  have  wished  to." 

"  You  left  him,  you,  his  playmate  in  boyhood — you, 
who  called  yourself  his  friend,  you  left  him  to  save  your- 
self. Coward !  "  And  the  woman  hissed  rather  than 
spoke  the  insulting  word. 

Eph.  grew  deadly  white  to  the  very  lips.  He  trembled 
so  that  he  could  hardly  stand.  Scarcely  looking  at  him, 
Sibyl  went  on. 

"  Here,   in   this    very  room  ;    there,   sitting    by    that 


FALLEN  FROM  GRACE.  145 

window,  you  were  the  first  one  to  urge  his  going  into  the 
army.  '  We  want  to  show,'  you  said,  '  what  the  old  Con- 
necticut blood  can  do  ? '  Am  I  not  speaking  the  truth  ?  " 

Eph.  could  only  nod. 

"  I  speak  the  truth  do  I  ?  You  came  back  without  a 
wound.  Ephraim  Dodge,  you  have  been  brought  up  in 
my  father's  house  from  childhood,  sick,  and  we  have 
nursed  you,  poor,  we  have  clothed  and  fed  you.  Where 
now,  I  ask,  is  the  man  I  love  ?  " 

"  Great  God  !  Sibyl,  don't  be  so  hard  on  a  fellow.  You 
know  I  love  Ned.  You  know  that  barring  the  folks  in 
this  house,  there  ain't  nobody  I  care  for  so  much  as  him. 
I  ain't  much  given  to  bragging,  but  I  say  it,  who  shouldn't 
ought  to,  I'd  take  his  place  to-morrow.  But  what  could  I 
do.  Now  you've  got  a  little  composed  like,  let  me  tell 
you  the  whole  thing.  We  had  been  more  than  twenty 
hours  separated  from  the  rest,  and  Ned  he  began  to  get 
worried  like.  Every  few  minutes  we'd  hear  the  sound  of 
bugles,  first  on  our  right,  then  on  our  left.  We  were  in  a 
piece  of  scrub  oak.  Sibyl,  you  don't  know  what  a  scrub 
oak  swamp  is,  until  you  see  one  in  the  Adirondacks." 

"  Oh,  man,  you  will  drive  me  frantic  !  Tell  me  where 
you  last  saw  him." 

"  There  then,  now  I  didn't  mean  it,  no,  I  didn't,  you 
see,  we  were  just  caught  like  a  rat  in  a  trap,  we  were  sur- 
rounded, as  I  may  say.  It  began  to  get  dark,  and  Ned, 
said  he,  just  hold  the  men  together  as  well  as  you  can,  and 
fall  back  slowly  while  I  step  to  that  rising  ground  and 
take  a  look.  And  that's  the  last  I  ever  see  of  Ned,  nor 

hear  tell  of  him  either,  until  I  got  back  to  D .     Now 

there's  the  truth,  so  help  me." 

10 


146  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Sibyl  was  greatly  touched  by  the  boy's  emotion.  She 
held  out  her  hand,  saying : 

"  I  did  you  injustice,  Eph.,  you  are  what  I  always 
thought  you,  true  and  honest.  But  oh,  Eph.,  the  agony  of 
sitting  here,  hour  after  hour  and  knowing  yourself  power- 
less, not  to  be  able  to  hold  out  a  helping  hand,  not  to  be 
able  to  soothe,  not  to  say  one  word  of  love  !  " 

"  Can't  nothing  be  done,  Sibyl  ?  Isn't  there  some  one 
who  would  take  an  interest  in  Ned's  case  ?  'Tain't  no 
use  to  sit  here  a-crying.  Can't  Mr.  Hamilton  do  some- 
thing with  this  here  blasted  government  ?  You  ought  to 
ax  him,  Sibyl,  he's  been  awful  sweet  on  you  afore  now." 

"  I  have  asked  him,  time  and  time  again,  Eph.  But 
you  ought  not  to  say  such  things,  you  do  not  know  how 
you  pain  me  ;  I  know  that,  as  a  friend,  Mr.  Hamilton  would 
do  any  thing." 

"  Dare  say,  dare  say,"  said  Eph.,  seating  himself  and 
extending  his  legs  well  out  before  him.  "  Friendship's  a 
fine  thing,  when  ye  don't  run  it  too  far.  See  here,  now, 
Sibyl,  I  ain't  got  your  education,  nor  I  ain't  so  smart  as 
Ned,  but  I  ain't  a  fool  neither.  Do  ye  think  I  ain't  seen 
the  old  man  a  hanging  round  ye  for  the  last  five  years  for 
nothing — not  to  speak  of  the  old  lady,  whose  set  her  heart 
years  ago  to  have  you  a  Senator's  lady." 

"  How  dare  you  speak  to  me  in  this  way,  sir  ? "  said 
Sibyl,  springing  to  her  feet,  her  cheeks  red  as  fire.  "  How 
dare  you  make  such  insinuations  ?  " 

"Whose  'sinuated  anything  I'd  like  to  know?  When  I 
say  any  thing  ag'in  yer,  it'll  be  time  for  yer  to  defend  yer- 
self.  That  an't  ther  question  afore  the  court.  The  p'int 
is,  kin  we  git  Ed.  out  of  prison.  Can't  you  make  the  old 


FALLEN  FROM  GRACE.          147 

man  take  another  trip  to  Washington  ?  I  guess  ye  kin  if  ye 
try,  women  can  make  a  man  do  most  any  thing  when  they 
sets  their  mind  to  it." 

"  Oh,  Eph.,  how  can  you  talk  so  !  Have  I  not  asked 
and  begged  him  almost  on  my  knees.  Have  I  not  told 
him  I  would  worship  him  if  he  could  only  get  Edward 
off." 

"  Phew !  wasn't  that  going  jist  a  little  too  far.  Ye 
might  have  said  ye'd  have  remembered  him.  That's  what 
they  tell  ye  when  they  bring  a  horse  in  as  wet  as  a 
drowned  rat,  on  a  July  day,  and  darned  little  good  it  does 
you  as  a  rule.  Now  look  here,  Sibyl,  there's  the  Deacon 
a-hollowing,  I  promised  the  old  man  I'd  ride  back  and 
spend  the  night." 

"  Why,  Eph.,  are  you  not  going  to  stay  with  us  ?  " 

"  Not  to-night,  Sibyl,  not  to-night.  You  see,  if  it  got 
round  I  was  to  hum  ;  all  the  boys  would  be  after  getting 
me  down  to  the  tavern,  and  that  costs  a  pile  of  money. 
No,  no,  I  prefer  to  take  them  single  in  the  morning.  It 
don't  cost  more  than  half.  See  here,  Sibyl,  I  am  going  to 
have  a  talk  with  the  Deacon.  He's  a  mighty  smart  man 
in  his  way,  and  there's  no  knowing  what  he  may  cut  out. 
Ned's  not  dead  yet,  by  a  long  shot.  So  you  jist  keep  up 
your  spirits,  and  come  it  over  the  Senator.  Do  ye  under- 
stand ?  Good-night !  " 

Eph.  hesitated  somewhat  about  introducing  the  subject 
to  his  old  companion.  He  made  several  ineffectual  begin- 
nings, but  they  were  done  in  such  a  roundabout  manner, 
that  the  only  effect  produced  was  a  long  stare.  The  doubt 
of  Eph.'s  sobriety  being  for  the  moment  a  suspicion  in  the 
Deacon's  mind. 


148  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"What  on  earth's  there  to  hesitate  about  !  Why 
shouldn't  Mr.  Hamilton  set  about  getting  Ed.  out  of 
trouble.  'Tain't  asking  much  of  the  old  man  any  way. 
See  here,  Deacon."  These  last  words  were  uttered 
aloud. 

"Wai,"  said  the  Deacon,  giving  the  reins  a  jerk  to 
quicken  the  steps  of  the  old  horse  he  was  driving — "  wal, 
what  on  earth  ails  the  boy — ye  ain't  giddy,  are  ye  ?  Ye 
be'ant  taken  sick  like,  be  you  ?  " 

"  Sick  !  "  exclaimed  Eph.,  bursting  into  a  hearty  laugh 
as  he  took  in  the  situation ;  "  no,  no,  I  ain't  drunk.  De 
ye  see,  I  think  I've  put  my  foot  into  it." 

u  Judging  from  the  kick  you  give  me  just  this  minute 
I  should  say  it  was  a  pretty  big  one,"  chuckled  the  Deacon 
at  his  own  wit.  "  Tell  the  old  man,  boy,  is  it  a  gal  ? " 

"  I  ain't  taking  in  any  thing  I  sowed  myself — I  ain't 
much  given  to  women,  Deacon.  I've  got  the  old  man  to 
look  after,  and  he  costs  so  much  in  these  times  that  I 
can't  afford  to  even  wink  at  a  petticoat — de  ye  see  !  " 

"  I  see  you've  got  an  old  head  if  it  be  on  young  shoul- 
ders, Eph.  Dodge — my  boy,  go  on  !  " 

"  Now,  Deacon,  while  you  and  the  others  were  talking 
in  the  parlor,  Sibyl  and  I  had  it  out  in  the  dining-room. 
My  eyes,  what  a  going  over  she  gave  me." 

"  Going  over ;  what  on  earth  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  Just  what  I  say,"  replied  Eph.  doggedly. 

They  had  reached  the  door  of  the  house  at  this  point 
of  the  conversation,  and  the  hired  man  came  out  to  whom 
the  Deacon  gave  the  horse,  unlike  his  usual  manner,  with- 
out a  word  of  advice  or  direction.  He  took  Eph.  by  the 
arm  and  led  the  way  directly  to  the  kitchen,  the  common 


FALLEN  FROM  GRACE.  149 

sitting-room  of  the  family.  His  daughter,  the  servant 
girl  told  him,  had  gone  to  bed.  He  waved  his  hand  im- 
patiently. 

"  I  want  something  to  drink,  Phoebe,  I  am  cold,  and  I 
am  thirsty,  and  I  am  tired." 

He  released  Eph.  as  he  spoke  and  proceeded  to  relieve 
himself  from  the  folds  of  his  dark  blue  camlet  cloak. 
Methodically  he  hung  both  cloak  and  hat  in  the  passage 
behind  the  front  door,  speaking  to  the  servant  girl  as  he 
did  so. 

"  We  will  have  prayers  first,  and  then,  Phcebe,  can't  you 
get  us  a  little  hot  water,  and  there  is,  or  ought  to  be,  more 
than  a  half  bottle  of  Jamaica  in  the  cupboard,  and  then  ye 
can  go  to  bed  if  you're  a-mind  to.  Do  you  hear.  Reach 
me  down  the  Bible,  we  won't  wait  for  John.  Yer  must  be 
sleepy." 

Eph.  was  surprised,  and  to  a  certain  extent  pleased,  at 
the  shortness  of  the  Deacon's  evening  devotion.  When 
they  were  alone  the  old  man  mixed  a  stiff  tumbler  of  grog, 
lit  his  long  clay  pipe,  and  seating  himself  immediately  in 
front  of  the  fire  spread  out  both  his  legs  to  their  utmost 
extent,  and  exclaimed — 

"  Well ! " 

"Well!  "retorted  Eph. 

The  Deacon  stared  at  him  through  his  spectacles, 
which  he  had  forgotten  to  remove.  Then  pushed  the 
glasses  up  on  his  forehead,  and  finally  said : 

"  I  take  back  what  I  said  on  the  street,  you're  no  better 
than  an  innocent,  you  ain't." 

Eph.  never  moved  a  muscle  of  his  face  but  hitched  his 
chair  rather  closer  to  the  fire. 


I5O  SIBYL    SPENCER, 

"  To  fall  in  love  with  Sibyl,  was  prehaps  natural  ;  but 
for  sich  a  boy  as  you  to  tell  her  so,  was  clean  agin  nature. 
Ephraim  Dodge,  you're  a  fool  !  " 

Eph.'s  eyes  twinkled  with  fun. 

"  Prehaps  you're  right,  Deacon  ;  I've  thought  so  often 
myself.  But  you  mark  my  words,  Deacon  Knapp,  yu've 
got  the  wrong  sow  by  the  ear.  When  there's  a  woman  in 
the  case,  thar's  no  fool  like  an  old  fool." 

"  What !  "  sputtered  the  Deacon,  choking  between  the 
hot  rum  and  his  astonishment.  The  tears  stood  in  his 
eyes  at  the  agony  he  was  enduring.  "  You  have  been  to 
the  public  school :  let  us  hear  some  of  the  King's  English, 
can't  ye." 

Eph.  slowly  allowed  himself  to  sink  down  in  his  chair 
until  he  rested  almost  on  his  shoulders,  and  placed  his 
feet  nearly  on  the  top  of  the  high  wooden  mantel. 

"  They  make  a  strong  team  when  they  pull  together, 
such  a  man  as  Mr.  Hamilton  and  the  old  woman — and 
she's  bent  on  having  Sibyl  a  grand  lady,  Mrs.  Spencer  is." 

The  Deacon  gave  a  long  low  whistle.  "  So  you've 
found  it  out,  have  you — you're  cute,  you  are." 

"  I  can  see  as  far  as  most  men,  I  can  ;  but  that  ain't 
nothing  to  the  subject.  Look  a-here,  Deacon,  nuther 
side's  a-going  to  hang  them  prisoners.  They're  only  going 
to  keep  um  shut  up  a  while.  I  do  believe  Sibyl  loves  Ned 
as  well  as  a  woman  can  love,  but  you  know  its  a  great 
temptation  to  go  and  live  in  New  Haven,  and  be  the  rich 
lady  of  the  State,  and  all  that,  ain't  it  now  ?  " 

"  Who'd  a  thought  it — who'd  a  thought  it,"  muttered 
the  Deacon  as  he  leaned  over  the  fire.  "  Help  yourself, 
there's  more  liquor  where  that  comes  from.  I  ain't  in 


FALLEN    FROM    GRACE. 

spirits  to  night.  I've  pinned  my  faith  on  that  man.  He's 
better  nor  fifty-five  years  old,  I'm  sixty-five  come  next 
August.  Eph.  my  boy,  as  you  grow  old,  you'll  see  how 
true  the  blessed  Book  is.  It's  the  old  story  over  again. 
The  rich  man  with  his  flocks  and  herds — and  he  sot  his 
heart  on  the  one  ewe  lamb — who'd  a  thought  it." 

There  was  a  long  silence,  broken  only  by  the  Deacon's 
muttered  exclamations  of  disgust  as  he  endeavored  to  mix 
his  toddy  to  his  taste.  First  too  strong,  then  too  weak  ;  at 
length  Eph.  said : 

"  There's  no  trusting  them  ere  women,  I  just  hinted 
it  to  Sibyl,  and  though  she  fired  up  like,  she  got  as  red  as 
if  she'd  been  stealing  sweetmeats.  I  tell  you,  Deacon, 
there's  no  trusting  of  them." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  muttered  the  other  sorrowfully ;  "  I 
suppose  not ;  I  suspicioned  something,  but  it  never  struck 
me  as  how  Arthur  Hamilton  would  have  broken  the  tenth 
commandment." 

"  'Tain't  so  bad  as  that,"  Eph.  exclaimed,  springing  to 
his  feet  a  little  unsteadily,  for  the  fire  was  hot  and  the 
Jamaica  strong. 

"  If  I  thought  as  how,  I  tell  you  Deacon,  if  he  is  the 
head  man  in  the  State,  I'm  damned  if — " 

"  Hush,  hush  !  "  said  the  Deacon  ;  "  it  kinder  strikes 
me  as  how  we've  got  this  thing  mixed  up,  jist  as  you've 
mixed  the  commandments.  Let's  sleep  on  it,  and  to-mor- 
row I'll  have  a  talk  with  Hamilton.  He  won't  get  the 
better  of  me,  I  can  tell  you.  Thar's  your  room  :  do  you 
think  you  can  put  out  your  candle?  Guess  I'll  blow  it  out, 
you  can  see  pretty  well  by  the  moonshine.  Good  night !  " 

It  would  have  been  difficult  to  find  a  more  sheepish 


152  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

looking  man  than  Deacon  Knapp  on  the  following  morn- 
ing. In  honor  of  Eph.'s  return  from  the  war,  the  old  man 
had  broken  out  into  unwonted  hospitality,  and  the  liquor 
had  made  him,  if  not  intoxicated,  at  least  garrulous  ;  and 
what  wounded  him  far  more  than  any  thing  else,  was  that 
he  had  in  a  slight  degree  fallen  from  his  high  estate.  As 
he  would  have  expressed  it,  he  was  no  longer  fit  to  sit  in 
the  gate  and  judge  Israel  as  they  passed. 

Shrewd,  prudent,  and  wise  beyond  his  years,  Eph.  had 
been  brought  up  in  a  different  school.  Temperate  he  was 
both  by  nature  and  habit ;  but  his  army  experience  had 
made  him  acquainted  with  many  worse  scenes.  A  dip  of 
his  curly  head  in  a  bucket  of  water  fresh  from  the  well,  a 
rub  with  the  harsh  roller  which  hung  behind  the  kitchen 
door,  the  use  of  a  wooden  pocket-comb,  by  the  aid  of  a 
cracked  looking-glass  hardly  larger  than  his  hand,  and 
Eph.'s  simple  toilet  was  complete. 

The  Deacon  looked  at  him  in  wonder  and  envy  as  he 
sat  eating  heartily  of  the  plain  but  abundant  breakfast. 
For  almost  the  first  time  in  his  life  the  Deacon  wished  he 
was  young  again.  Oh,  how  ignorant  we  are  until  we  lose 
it !  of  the  strange  wild  pleasure  of  merely  being  young, 
well  has  the  great  magician  sung,  he  who  could  sound 
every  "  depth  and  shoal "  of  the  human  heart,  after  a 
long,  honorable,  laborious  and  successful  life — 

"  Take  the  wealth,  take  the  honors  ye  have  brought  in  your  train, 
But  give  me  the  joys  of  my  spring  tide  again." 

"  Mrs.  Griswold,  marm,"  said  Eph.  as  he  pushed  back 
his  chair  with  a  sigh  of  exhaustion,  "  them  sossengers  is 
fit  for  General  Washington,  and  as  for  the  buckwheats,  I 


FALLEN    FROM    GRACE.  153 

don't  believe  I  could  hold  any  more  if  I  was  to  stand  up," 
and  he  suited  the  action  to  the  word.  Standing  with  his 
back  to  the  fire  he  surveyed  his  host  with  keen  inquiring 
eyes. 

"  It  'pears  to  me  you're  a  little  off  your  feed,  Deacon. 
That  last  glass  of  Jamaica  was  a  mite  too  much.  Thought 
so  when  you  took  it." 

How  the  Deacon  glared  at  him.  What  right  had  youth 
and  a  strong  stomach  to  grin  at  him  at  his  own  table,  and 
far  worse  than  all,  before  his  own  daughter.  Almost 
pathetically  he  cast  a  glance  at  the  woman  sitting  so 
quietly  at  the  head  of  the  table.  He  took  in  the  slight 
smile,  half  smile  half  sneer,  which  just  curled  the  corners 
of  that  handsome  mouth.  How  much  she  looked  like  her 
mother  !  and,  by  Jupiter  !  she  had  known  it  all  along. 

icl  am  going  down  to  the  village,  Sally,  this  morning," 
said  the  Deacon  with  more  than  ordinary  dignity  of  man- 
ner. "  I  am  going  to  have  a  little  talk  with  neighbor 
Hamilton.  There's  a  little  something  going  on  which 
worries  me  like — not  that  I  believe  it,  but  then  from  the 
position  I  hold  in  the  church  on  earth — " 

The  Deacon  hesitated,  colored,  at  the  remembrance  of 
last  night,  and  cast  a  look  at  his  young  companion  for  the 
assistance  he  needed. 

"  Ye  see,  Mrs.  Griswold,  marm,  the  fact  of  this  matter 
is — "  Here  Eph.  stopped  what  was  the  fact  which  had 
caused  so  much  trouble  in  his  mind. 

"  I  guess,  Sally,  you  know  as  how  Ed.  Mason's  away, 
don't  ye  ? " 

"  Certainly,"  replied  the  woman  as  she  raised  her  full, 
honest  black  eyes  to  the  speaker's  face.  "  Everybody 
knows  that  fact." 


154  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"Well,  now,  you  see,  the  truth  is — the  Deacon  and 
me,  we  think,  don't  we  Deacon — that  Mr.  Hamilton  is  jist 
a  little,  only  a  little — how  shall  I  say  it — too  thick  with  our 
Sibyl.  Don't  we,  Deacon  ?" 

The  Deacon  hesitated  to  give  any  answer  to  this  ap- 
peal. He  did  not  like  the  look  in  his  daughter's  eyes.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  seen  her  look  at  him  in  that 
way.  He  cleared  his  voice  once  or  twice  before  he  an- 
swered : 

"  My  daughter,  no  man  acknowledges  the  weakness  of 
poor  human  nature  more  than  I  do.  Even  the  elect  on 
'arth  may  fall  a  little  from  grace  and  yet  be  saved.  It  is 
the  duty  of  us  who  are  called  to  watch  over  the  Israel  of 
God  to  hold  out  the  helping  hand,  even  if  he  doesn't 
belong  to  our  communion,  when  we  see  him  a-struggling 
agin  the  weaknesses  of  poor  human  nature." 

Sally  could  stand  it  no  longer,  she  placed  both  her 
elbows  on  the  table,  leaned  her  face  on  her  hands,  looked 
the  man  fully  in  the  face,  and  said  in  a  perfectly  clear  and 
distinct  voice — 

"  Just  listen  to  me.  Here  I  am,  a  woman  whose  hus- 
band is  far  away,  God  knows  if  he  is  living  or  dead !  a 
woman,  neither  by  birth  nor  intelligence,  nor  education,  to 
be  named  with  Sibyl  Spencer.  I  ask  you  what  would  be 
your  feelings,  as  my  father,  if  some  stranger  to  your  hearth- 
stone made  insinuations  against  me.  I  ask — " 

"  Nobody's  making  insinuations,"  broke  in  Eph.  "  I'd 
like  to  see  'em  !  I  ain't  no  fool  !  wasn't  I  brought  up  in  the 
family  ?  don't  I  love  Ed.  better  nor  any  thing  on  'arth  ?  isn't 
the  old  woman  always  a-praising  up  Mr.  Hamilton  and 
a-telling  Sibyl  what  she's  missed  in  not  setting  her  cap 


FALLEN  FROM  GRACE.  155 

for  him  ?  Isn't  the  man  himself  thar  every  day  of  his  life  ! 
Don't  I  know  what  you  women  are  ! " 

"  No  you  don't,"  burst  in  Sally,  her  eyes  flashing  and 
losing  all  restraint ;  "  you  are  nothing  but  a  meddlesome, 
officious,  interfering  school-boy,  that's  what  you  are. 
Father,  dear  father,  listen  to  me." 

"  My  daughter,  it  may  be  you  are  right ;  but  my  office 
as  Deacon  in  Doctor  Spencer's  congregation  requires  I 
should  speak  to  Arthur  Hamilton,  and  I  will  do  it,  this 
day,  if  I  die  for  it." 

He  left  the  kitchen,  slamming  the  door  after  him  as 
he  went. 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


"THE   WORD    IN   SEASON. 

"  But  of  all  plagues,  good  Heaven  thy  wrath  can  send, 
Save,  save,  oh  save  me  from  the  candid  friend." 

NEW  MORALITY. 

R.  HAMILTON'S  residence  was  in  the  town  of 
New  Haven,  but  he  owned  a  small  house  in 

the  village  of  D ,  to  which  was  attached 

quite  a  productive  farm.  Debarred  by  the 
prejudices  of  his  fellow-citizens  from  the  turf,  then  the 
great  resort  of  all  the  large  landholders  both  north  and 
south,  Mr.  Hamilton  had  turned  his  attention  to  cattle,  and 
had  introduced  into  Connecticut  almost  the  first  imported 
stock  animals  brought  to  America.  It  was  questionable 
whether  in  a  pecuniary  way  he  was  not  largely  a  loser  by 
his  agricultural  and  breeding  experiments.  Many  were  the 
sneers  and  jokes  thrown  at  the  squire,  and  the  one  ques- 
tion, so  dear  to  the  New  England  heart,  was  repeatedly 
asked  :  "  Did  it  pay  ? "  Pecuniarily,  No  ;  as  a  relaxation 
for  the  overworked  statesman  and  lawyer,  Yes.  But 
there  was  a  deeper  reason,  why  he  cherished  and  spent 
every  possible  moment  at  this  outlying  farm.  It  was  by 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON.  157 

this  means  he  could  be,  unsuspectedly,  as  he  thought, 
near  Sibyl.  Perhaps  her  shadow,  passing  by,  like  that  of 
Peter's  in  Holy  Writ,  might  "  overshadow  him."  At  all 
events,  he  could  watch,  minister  and  suffer. 

Few  persons,  had  they  seen  Arthur  Hamilton  in  that 
clear,  bright  winter's  morning,  standing  by  the  fire  of  the 
room  he  designated  as  "  study,"  his  portly  figure  set  off 
to  advantage  by  the  dress  of  the  day,  his  hair  just 
tinged  with  gray,  his  color  high,  his  eye  bright,  every  mark 
of  a  firm,  resolute,  self-reliant  man  about  him,  would  have 
thought  him  the  victim  of  unrequited  love.  The  old 
Deacon,  resolute  and  strong  as  he  was,  hesitated  at  open- 
ing the  interview. 

"My  old  friend,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton  warmly  wringing 
his  hand,  "to  what  lucky  chance  am  I  to  attribute  the 
pleasure  of  a  visit  from  you  ?  You  are  too  independent  to 
want  a  favor,  and  yet  your  face  indicates  trouble  and 
anxiety.  Sit  down  and  open  your  heart  to  me,  you  have 
no  warmer  friend." 

The  Deacon  cleared  his  throat.  He  even  went  so  far 
as  to  insinuate  the  possession  of  a  cold. 

"Well,  squire,"  he  said  at  length,  letting  himself  fall 
heavily  into  the  chair  Mr.  Hamilton  designated,  "  its 
been  a  mighty  severe  winter  on  grain,  especially  wheat — 
not  that  that's  much  account  here  in  Connecticut,  seeing  as 
how  we  don't  raise  any  to  speak  on.  But  what  with  the 
worry  of  the  war  an'  the  rise  in  provisions,  it's  hard  to  think 
how  many  is  going  afore  spring." 

"  Has  the  season  been  more  unhealthy  than  usual,  Dea- 
con ? "  asked  Mr.  Hamilton. 

"  Yes,  I  should  say  so,"  continued  the  Deacon,  "  not 


158  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

that  it  matters  much  when  ye  go,  if  yer  called.  Don't  you 
agree  with  me,  squire  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  my  old  friend.  If  a  man's  life  and  heart 
are  right,  if  matters  little  when  the  last  hour  strikes  on 
the  dial." 

"  Jist  so,  jist  so,  in  that  p'int  we  both  agree.  But  as 
I  lay  awake,  in  the  dark  watches  of  last  night,  squire,  the 
thought  come  over  me  of  the  story  of  '  David  and  Uriah 
the  Hittite  ; '  you  remember  it,  don't  ye,  squire  ?  " 

"  I  certainly  am  sufficiently  well  read,  Deacon,  in  my 
Bible,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton  with  a  laugh,  drawing  his  chair 
close  to  the  fire,  "  not  to  have  passed  over  perhaps  the 
most  dramatic  story  in  the  Old  Testament." 

"  If  that's  so,  and  I  believe  ye,"  said  the  Deacon,  fixing 
his  cold  blue  eye  on  his  companion,  "  I  tell  you,  Arthur 
Hamilton,  as  Nathan  said  unto  David,  'Thou  art  the  man.'  " 

Mr.  Hamilton  sprang  to  his  feet.  His  face  flushed,  and 
he  clenched,  perhaps  unconsciously,  his  hands.  His  voice 
was  low  and  deep  as  he  said  : 

"  This  passes  the  license  of  the  sect  to  which  you 
belong.  How  dare  you  utter  such  words  to  me  ?  Here 
sitting  at  my  hearth-stone  ;  how  dare  you  dishonor  me  by 
such  an  imputation  ?  " 

"  How  dare  I,  do  you  ask,  Arthur  Hamilton  ?  "  said  the 
old  Puritan,  his  eye  glittering  like  the  blue  icicle  of  his 
northern  hills — "  because  I  am  the  friend  of  that  girl's  father; 
because  I  am  called  to  speak  the  word  in  season  and  out 
of  season  ;  because,"  and  his  voice  faltered  as  he  laid  his 
hand  on  the  shoulder  of  the  haughty  man  who  stood  quiv- 
ering with  anger  before  him,  "  because  you  have  been, 
since  you  were  twenty,  the  personification  of  all  that  was 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON.  159 

noble  and  true  and  good  in  the  old  English  stock  we  have 
both  sprung  from.  I'll  not  see  you  fall,  Arthur  Hamilton, 
without  lending  you  a  helping  hand." 

Mr.  Hamilton  shook  off  the  hand  that  rested  on  his 
shoulder,  and  walked  angrily  up  and  down  the  room  ;  sud- 
denly he  stopped  in  front  of  the  Deacon.  His  face  had 
lost  the  flush  of  anger,  and  he  had  grown  very  pale. 

"  Mr.  Knapp,  what  the  h do  you  mean  ?  " 

It  was  the  first  time  in  an  acquaintance  of  twenty  years 
that  the  man  addressed  had  heard  an  oath  fall  from  the 
lips  of  Arthur  Hamilton.  The  old  man  stood  firm — his 
eyes  never  fell  nor  did  his  voice  shake,  and  yet  there  was  a 
concentrated  ferocity  in  the  accent  of  Mr.  Hamilton,  which 
might  have  made  a  resolute  man  tremble. 

"  What  do  I  mean,  do  you  ask  ?  you're  getting  into  a 
temper  shows  I  am  right — '  The  rich  man  had  flocks  and 
herds  and  exceeding  great  riches,'  the  good  Book  says, 
and  the  poor  man  '  only  one  pet  ewe  lamb.'  I  tell  ye  again, 
Arthur  Hamilton,  '  you  are  the  man.'  " 

It  was  by  a  tremendous  struggle  that  the  haughty  senator 
kept  down  any  further  signs  of  wrath.  He  looked  into  the 
clear  blue  eye,  and  over  the  weather-worn  frame  of  the 
Deacon — he  actually  stretched  himself  as  if  for  a  moment 
contemplating  a  fierce  physical  onslaught ;  then  slowly 
turned  and  walked  to  the  window  of  the  room,  and  looked 
out  on  the  bleak,  snow-clad  fields.  His  mind,  rapid  in 
thought,  brought  before  him  the  numerous  little  incidents 
which  might  have  been  tortured  by  the  gossip  of  a  country 
village.  He  saw  the  sweet,  gentle  girl,  who  treated  him  only 
as  the  dear  cherished  friend.  He  had  never  breathed  a  word 
of  love  since  that  day — never  made  a  gesture  which  the 


I6O  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

whole  world  might  not  have  seen — yet  he  might  have  done 
her  an  injury.  He  had  done  so,  the  unmerited  rebuke  of 
the  old  man  told  him  so.  He  turned,  the  Deacon  was 
standing,  his  hands  behind  his  back,  his  head  thrown  for- 
ward, his  eyes  cold  and  bright. 

"  Edward  Mason,  Mr.  Knapp,  came  home  last  night." 

"  Was  it  your  doings  ?  " 

"  No  !  "  thundered  rather  than  spoke  the  other.  "  Sit 
down  there  in  that  chair.  I  am  a  man,  and  as  such  have  a 
right  to  speak,  even  to  a  saint." 

"  I  ain't  no  saint,"  muttered  the  Deacon. 

"  You  think  yourself  one  at  any  rate.  Come,  let  me  be 
honest.  After  your  lights,  you  are  trying  to  do  your  duty. 
Sit  down  there,  I  ask  it  as  a  favor.  Mr.  Knapp,  you  were 
more  than  half  right.  From  the  bottom  of  my  soul  I  envy 
Edward  Mason.  Stop  !  you  have  brought  this  on  yourself ; 
you  must  hear  me  out.  From  my  youth  up  I  have  made  the 
world  my  home.  Ambition,  political  success,  the  applause 
of  men,  was  my  delight.  There  came  creeping  over  me, 
how  I  know  not,  a  softer,  holier  feeling.  I  found  pleasure 
in  things  at  which,  years  before,  I  should  have  smiled — a 
home,  a  fireside,  in  which  the  wayworn  man,  the  unsuccess- 
ful aspirant  for  honors  not  his,  could  find  rest  and  peace. 
Do  you  understand  me  ?  " 

"  Well,  yes ;  you  were   weary.      Ah,  me  !   I've  been 
weary  too  many's  the  time  since  Sally  died." 

"  You  had  your  daughter  :  I  was  alone.  I  used  to  come 
here  to  talk  with  James  Spencer,  my  old  tutor  at  college, 
my  guide,  my  friend  in  later  years.  There  I  saw  this  vision 
— she  slowly  broke  upon  me  in  all  her  youthful  sweetness. 
She  came  to  the  man  tired  in  spirit  and  in  heart,  as  springs 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON."  161 

of  water  break  out  of  a  barren  and  dry  land,  to  the  way- 
worn traveller." 

"  You  shouldn't  have  allowed  yerself  to  dwell  on  her. 
You  should  have  fled  the  spot  when  you  saw  the  danger," 
broke  in  the  Deacon,  deeply  interested  in  the  narrative. 

"  Old  man,  I  am  not  what  you  call  a  religious  man. 
Through  life  I  have  made  honor  my  guide." 

"Yes,  yes,  I  feared  so,"  interrupted  Knapp.  "  'Tis  al- 
ways, or  most  generally,  so  with  your  class.  Ye  scorn  the 
word  of  life  when  it  is  held  out  to  you  in  youth.  Ye  try  to 
make-honor  yer  sheet-anchor,  and  ye  get  shipwrecked  when 
the  winds  blow,  and  the  waves  run  high." 

"  Hear  me  through,"  said  Hamilton,  smiling  in  spite  of 
himself  at  the  quaint  mixture  of  metaphor  employed  by 
the  other.  "  Sibyl  Spencer  is  so  self-contained,  so  calm 
and  gentle  to  all,  that  until  the  morning  she  refused  to  be 
my  wife,  it  never  entered  my  head  to  dream  she  loved 
another,  much  less  this  boy,  this  Edward  Mason." 

"  Where  were  your  eyes,  squire.  Why  they  belonged  as 
much  to  one  another  as  if  they  had  been  called  three  times 
in  meeting.  Yer  never  would  have  been  took  in  so,  if  it 
had  been  a  question  of  politics.  Would  ye  now  ?  " 

"I  admit  my  blindness.  But  you,  you  who  have 
known  me  from  boyhood.  Shame  !  shame  old  man,  to  have 
for  one  moment  thought  that  Arthur  Hamilton,  for  the 
wealth  of  the  universe,  to  obtain  that  which  he  values  more 
than  wealth  or  titles  or  power,  would  stoop  to  do  a  base 
act.  Love  her  I  do,  but  I  love  my  manhood  more." 

"  I  believe  ye,"  said  the  Deacon,  holding  out  his  hand. 
"  I  believe  ye  squire,  I've  been  an  ass — that's  the  long 
and  short  of  it.  I  ought  to  have  judged  you  as  I  judge  my- 


1 62  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

self.  I  loved  my  Sally  as  well  as  ever  man  loved  a  woman. 
Her  picture  is  hanging  over  my  bed,  and  the  last  dress  she 
wore  is  a-hanging  in  the  closet.  There's  not  the  woman 
living  can  make  me  forget  the  sweet  face.  I  see  it  every 
time  I  look  at  my  darter.  She  was  bone  of  my  bone  and 
flesh  of  my  flesh.  So  ye  see,  I  can  feel  for  yer.  There  is 
no  consolation  in  that  I  know.  You  are,  as  you  jist  now 
said,  a  true  man,  and  you  hide  your  grief  in  your  own 
breast.  Good-by !  God  bless  you  !  I  was  a  fool !  I  was  a 
fool ! " 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  said  the  other  holding  him  back.  "  I  am 
not  half  done — you  say  I  am  a  man.  Do  you  think  that 
manhood  was  not  tried  when  that  girl,  almost  on  bended 
knees,  asked  me,  the  rejected  lover,  to  save  the  successful  one 
from  an  ignominious  death  !  To  see  day  by  day  that  pale 
cheek  grow  paler,  and  that  soft  eye  more  languid,  and  know 
I  was  powerless  to  assist  or  help.  Was  it  in  human  nature, 
I  ask  you  now  as  a  man — would  it  not  have  been  more  than 
human,  to  have  wrapt  myself  in  a  stoical  philosophy  I  do 
not  possess  and  gone  off  into  the  world,  leaving  her  to 
suffer.  Old  man,  from  the  moment  Sibyl  Spencer  told  me 
she  loved  another,  I  knew  the  grave  had  swallowed  up  my 
love.  She  was  suffering  and  I  could  suffer.  Her  joys  are 
my  joys,  her  pains  are  my  pains.  I  had  my  reward.  It  was 
my  voice  that  told  her  her  lover  lived.  It  was  my  hand 
that  last  night  led  him  to  her.  Their  happiness  shall  be 
my  care,  so  long  as  life  lasts,  so  help  me  God  !  " 

Deacon  Knapp  sat  silently  by  the  fire.  He  had  heaped 
the  brands  together  on  the  hearth,  and  bent  over  the 
flickering  blaze.  His  face,  strong  and  rugged,  wore  a  softer 
expression  than  usual,  and  he  drew  a  long  breath  as  Mr. 
Hamilton  concluded. 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON."  163 

"  You  come  of  a  race  which  we  have  long  honored  here 
in  Connecticut,  Arthur  Hamilton,  and  for  many  a  year 
there's  been  none  more  honored,  as  least  till  the  democrats 
came  in  ;  but  you  are  ahead  of  the  best  of  them.  You  are 
worthy  of  your  blood — I  couldn't  have  acted  as  you  do.  But, 
thank  the  Lord !  I  shall  never  be  tempted, — never  be 
tempted." 

There  was  a  long  pause,  broken  at  last  by  the  Deacon. 
"  You  called  me  a  saint,  when  I  first  came  in.  I  am  no- 
thing but  a  foolish,  conceited  old  man.  Because  I  don't 
care  for  women  ;  because  I  don't  go  a-gadding  round  the 
country  like  that  Major  Baylies,  making  a  fool  of  myself 
with  a  lot  of  chits  young  enough  to  be  my  granddarters — 
I  thought  myself  strong  ;  and  I  had  my  temptations ;  yes, 
I  did.  I  thought  myself  strong.  I  was  proud  in  my  own 
conceit.  I  took  the  highest  seat — I  didn't  wait  until  the 
master  said,  '  Friend,  go  up  higher.'  I  have  had  a 
lesson — I  have  had  a  lesson." 

Unmindful  of  any  thing  Mr.  Hamilton  could  say,  the 
Deacon  left  the  room.  The  old  horse  stood  patiently  in 
front  of  the  door,  and  muttering  to  himself  Deacon  Knapp 
untied  him  and  clambered  into  the  old  sleigh.  He  had 
made  an  appointment  to  meet  Eph.  at  the  tavern,  and  he 
saw  him  standing  by  the  bar  room  window,  but  the  old  man 
never  pulled  rein.  Eph.  rushed  out,  but  the  sleigh  and 
driver  disappeared  in  the  direction  of  the  farm. 

"  S'pect  the  old  man's  got  a  flea  in  his  ear.  God  bless 
my  soul !  "  he  exclaimed  in  a  voice  which  startled  the 
loungers  in  the  tavern.  "  Glory,  glory  Hallelujah  !  if  thar 
ain't  Ned  Mason  himself." 

The  man's  delight  was  touching.     He  laughed,  he  cried, 


164  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

he  danced  with  joy.  He  asked  Edward  the  same  question 
over  and  over  again,  never  awaiting  for  the  reply.  Edward 
was  turned  round  and  round,  felt,  examined,  punched  and 
slapped  on  the  back  until  his  breath  was  almost  gone.  The 
idlers  at  the  tavern  had  all  turned  out  to  add  their  con- 
gratulations, and  satisfy  their  curiosity,  by  listening  to  the 
story  whatever  it  might  be.  But  Eph.  was  too  jealous  of  his 
friend  to  allow  any  partnership  in  this  first  meeting.  He 
drew  Edward  forcibly  away,  turning  a  deaf  ear  to  all 
inducements  of  taking  something  just  for  luck. 

"  Well,  well,"  he  said  impatiently,  when  they  had  almost 
reached  the  parsonage,  "  hain't  yere  got  any  thing  to  say 
to  a  fellow,  now  you've  come  back  safe  and  sound.  I've 
been  doing  more  cussing  on  your  account  than  forty 
parsons  'd  be  able  to  pray  away  in  a  month  of  Sundays. 
How  did  they  treat  you,  and  how  did  you  get  away  ? 
That's  what  I  want  to  know." 

"  Well,  Eph.  old  boy,"  said  Edward  kindly  pressing  the 
arm  of  the  warm-hearted  young  man,  "  you  do  not  give  a 
man  much  of  a  chance  when  you  start  to  do  the  talking. 
How  did  they  treat  me  ?  As  well  as  could  be  expected. 
Shut  up  in  one  of  the  casemates  in  the  Citadel  of  Quebec ; 
and  as  to  how  I  got  away — as  soon  as  our  government 
agreed  to  an  exchange  of  prisoners,  I  was  released  on 
parole,  not  to  serve  until  exchanged." 

"  Do  tell  now,"  continued  Eph. ;  "  you  always  was  lucky, 
Ned,  that's  a  fact.  And  have  you  got  your  exchange 
papers  all  right,  and  when  is  you  going  back  ?  " 

"  Mr.  Hamilton  has  arranged  my  exchange,  and  besides 
has  had  me  appointed  on  the  staff  of  General  Brown,  who 
commands  on  the  New  York  line." 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON:  165 

"  Oh,  he  has,  has  he,"  replied  Eph.  in  so  dry  a  tone,  so 
utterly  unlike  the  one  which  he  usually  used,  that  it  caused 
Edward  to  glance  at  him  in  surprise.  Eph.'s  face  told 
nothing.  His  look  was  fastened  obstinately  on  the  ground, 
and  Edward  went  on. 

"  Yes,  I  am  very  fortunate  in  getting  the  appointment. 
General  Brown  is  said  by  every  one  to  be  the  rising  man 
on  our  side,  and  this  is  a  big  step  up  in  the  line  of  pro- 
motion. Will  you  go  back  with  me  to  the  army,  or  have 
you  had  enough  of  soldiering?" 

"I'll  see,  I'll  see.  So  Mr.  Hamilton  got  this  here 
appointment  for  ye,  did  he  ?  How  long  do  you  stay  to 
home  ?  "  he  asked  in  the  same  dry  tone. 

"  Not  more  than  two  or  three  days,  at  the  most.  Just 
long  enough  to  make  it  hard  to  leave  the  dear  friends  again. 
But  such  is  fate." 

"  How  did  Mr.  Hamilton  know  you  was  going  to  gel- 
out,  and  when  did  he  get  you  this  appointment  ? "  queried 
Eph. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  know,"  -said  Edward  carelessly.  "You  are 
as  curious  as  an  old  woman." 

"May  be  I  am, "retorted Eph.  doggedly,  "and  then  again 
may  be  I  ain't.  Prehaps  I  can  see  as  far  into  a  millstone 
as  any  one  else.  What  makes  Mr.  Hamilton  take  such  an 
interest  all  of  a  sudden  in  you  Ned  ?  He  ain't  no  kin  of 
yours,  like  ? " 

"  Not  that  I  know  of,"  said  the  other  stopping  and 
looking  his  friend  straight  in  the  face. 

"  Come,  Eph.,  out  with  it.  I  know  you  of  old.  What 
is  it  you've  got  to  say.  Speak  it  out  like  a  man." 

Eph.  hesitated.      He  was  sincere  in  his  love  for  Ed- 


1 66  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

ward,  and  his  cautious  Yankee  nature  made  him  anxious 
not  to  place  himself  in  bad  relationship  with  so  powerful  a 
man  as  Mr.  Hamilton.  Besides,  after  all,  it  was  but  suspi- 
cion. These  thoughts  ran  through  his  mind,  and  were 
seen  by  Edward's  clear  eyes,  almost  plainly  written  on  his 
face.  He  took  Eph.  firmly  by  the  arm,  and  said  earnestly — 

"  See  here,  my  boy,  you  and  I  have  been  friends  ever 
since  we  were  knee  high.  Something  has  happened  which 
I  ought  to  know.  What  is  it  ?  Don't  try  and  put  me  off. 
I  can  read  it  in  your  face.  Now  like  a  simple,  manly  fel- 
low, as  you  are,  tell  me  all." 

Thus  questioned,  after  a  moment's  twisting  and  turn- 
ing, Eph.  gave  way,  and  in  his  quaint  manner  told  Edward 
his  suspicion  of  Mr.  Hamilton's  devotion  to  Sibyl,  and  of 
Mrs.  Spencer's  evident  match-making  aspirations.  To  do 
him  justice,  he  softened  rather  than  increased  the  few 
facts  he  had  to  tell,  and  spoke  only  of  Sibyl,  as  in  his 
opinion,  still  being  warmly  in  love  with  Edward.  Place 
them  as  he  would,  there  was  enough  to  rouse  all  the  jeal- 
ousy of  Edward's  nature,  and  he  ground  his  teeth  and 
stamped  his  foot  with  anger. 

"  See  now,"  said  Eph.,  in  his  turn,  laying  a  restraining 
hand  on  the  fiery  young  man,  "  don't  you  go  and  make 
a  fool  of  yourself.  Sibyl's  all  right,  I  can  tell  you  ;  just 
you  have  a  talk  with  her ;  she's  a  mighty  sensible  gal,  our 
Sibyl  is,  I  can  tell  you.  And  more  than  that,  it's  a  mighty 
nice  thing  to  have  a  man  like  the  Squire  push  you  ahead 
as  he  does,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  He  !  he  !  "  said  Edward  savagely. 

"  That's  all  very  well.  He  ain't  to  blame  neither.  It's 
all  the  old  woman's  doing.  With  her  high  and  mighty  air 


"THE  WORD  IN  SEASON."  167 

as  if  there  wasn't  folks  good  enough  for  her  to  be  had  in 
the  village." 

There  was  something  of  a  pause.  Edward  evidently  had 
not  heard  a  word  of  the  last  few  sentences  the  man  had 
said.  He  was  standing  kicking  his  foot  against  a  piece  of 
ice,  his  eyes  fastened  on  the  ground,  and  his  lips  moving  as 
if  talking  to  himself.  He  was  evidently  in  great  mental  pain 
as  well  as  in  anger. 

"  See  here  now,  Ned,"  said  Eph.,  enforcing  his  remarks 
with  a  slap  to  attract  the  other's  attention,  "yere  ain't 
come  back  with  much  money  in  your  pockets,  I  suspect, 
has  yere  ? " 

Edward  smiled  bitterly. 

"  I  never  was  what  the  world  or  Mrs.  Spencer  would 

,. 

call  a  good  match  ;  and  this  war,  in  destroying  almost  all 
the  little  property  I  ever  had,  has  not  made  me  a  better  one. 
Why,  man,  I  haven't  got  ten  dollars  in  the  world  !  " 

"  You  haven't  lost  the  old  farm,  have  you  ?  "  asked 
Eph.,  anxiously  pointing  his  thumb  in  the  direction  it  was 
supposed  to  lie.  "  I  have  got,"  he  went  on  to  say  in  low, 
hesitating  tones,  "  just  about  one  thousand  dollars  lying 
loose.  I'd  take  it  kindly,  Ned,  if  you'd  take  it  and  invest 
it  for  me.  You  can  pay  me  interest  on  it  while  in  your 
hands.  You  see,"  he  continued,  interrupting  Edward  as 
he  was  about  speaking,  "  I  am  pretty  good  at  a  trade,  but 
when  it  comes  to  laying  out  money,  I  ain't  had  education 
enough  ;  do  you  see,  now  ? " 

"You  are  a  good  fellow,  Eph.,  and  if  I  want  money,  I 
would  rather  take  it  from  you  than  from  anybody  else." 
As  he  said  this  he  turned  to  enter  the  house. 

"  Just  see,  now,"  said  Eph.,  detaining  him.     "  If  you 


1 68  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

would  feel  any  better  you  can  give  me  your  note.  Or  Ned, 
you  might  make  it  a  mortgage  on  the  farm.  It  must  be 
worth  more  than  a  thousand  dollars,  even  in  these  times ; 
ain't  it,  now  ?  " 

Edward  smiled  at  this  evidence  of  cautious  affection 
on  the  man's  part,  and  nodding  to  him  entered  the  house. 
Eph.  at  first  made  a  motion  as  if  to  follow.  Then  paused 
and  muttered  in  a  low  tone — 

"Guess  I'd  better  go  look  after  the  old  man.  Them 
folks  at  the  tavern  may  have  understood  me  to  have  opened 
an  account  for  him  to-day.  If  that's  so,  and  I  get  off  for 
ten  York  shillings,  I  am  lucky. 


CHAPTER  XV. 


A     LOVER'S     QUARREL. 

"  Dare  to  be  true,  nothing  can  need  a  lie  ; 
A  fault  which  needs  it  most  grows  two  thereby." 

HERBERT. 

HE  Deacon  had  gotten  into  his  sleigh  with  a 
dogged  expression  of  determination  on  his  face, 
which  boded  ill  for  any  peacefu-1  interview  with 
Mr.  Hamilton.  Mrs.  Griswold  had  made  no  at- 
tempt to  dissuade  him  from  going.  She  knew  his  character, 
and  that  opposition  and  entreaty  would  be  alike  unavailing. 
To  let  Sibyl  be  attacked  while  she  remained  silent  was  to 
Sally  Griswold  impossible.  She  called  the  hired  man, 
and  bade  him  drive  her  to  the  village,  and  before  she  had 
made  up  her  mind  as  to  what  she  would  do,  she  was  in 
Sibyl's  presence.  The  quick-witted  woman  saw  at  once 
that  something  unusual  had  occurred.  The  eye,  which 
had  been  so  sad  and  heavy,  now  shone  with  recovered 
light.  The  step,  so  listless  and  languid,  was  now  firm  and 
elastic.  The  very  atmosphere  in  which  Sibyl  moved, 
seemed  changed  ;  it  needed  not  the  happy  words  of  greet- 
ing to  tell  the  story  that.  Edward  Mason  had  returned. 
What  an  astonishing  alteration  a  few  short  hours  had 
made  !  With  what  deep  interest  were  the  hundred  little 

trifles  of  domestic  life  inquired  into  !     Then  the  baby — for 
(169) 


170  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

the  little  fellow  never  left  his  mother ;  how  many  teeth 
had  he  ;  how  he  had  grown  ;  when  had  she  heard  from  his 
father  ?  Oh,  she  was  so  happy,  Sibyl  thought  this  world 
was  paradise  itself ! 

"  Just  think,  Sally,  how  more  than  kind  Mr.  Hamilton 
has  been.  He  not  only  arranged  for  Edward's  immediate 
exchange,  but  obtained  for  him  this  leave  of  absence  ;  no 
small  favor,  let  me  tell  you,  and  has  added  to  it  all  by 
having  him  appointed  on  the  staff  of  General  Brown." 

Why  was  it  that  this  eternal  recurrence  to  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton grated  on  Mrs.  Griswold's  feelings  !  She  had  felt 
indignant  that  morning  at  her  father  and  Eph.,  now,  she 
did  not  know  why,  but  somehow,  she  shared  their  feelings. 

"  Sibyl,  dear — "  Sally  hesitated  how  she  should  say  the 
thoughts  which  came  into  her  head.  "  Sibyl,  dear,  are  you 
not  very  intimate  with  Mr.  Hamilton  ?  " 

"  Why,  of  course  we  are,  you  foolish  child.  He  is  the 
kindest,  dearest,  best  friend  a  person  ever  had.  What 
father  would  have  done  without  him  these  long  weary 
months  no  one  can  tell !  " 

"  You  know,  Sibyl,  how  very,  very  fond  I  am  of  you  ? " 

"  Yes." 

"  You  won't  be  angry  if  I  say  something  to  you,  will 
you  ? " 

"  Angry,  why  should  I  ?   of  course  not.     What  is  it  ? " 

"  I  wouldn't  hurt  your  feelings  for  all  the  world,  Sibyl, 
dear.  There  is  no  one  I  love  so  much  as  you  except 
father  and  Sam.  and — and — the  baby,  you  know." 

"  Now,  Sally,  what  is  it  ? "  said  Sibyl,  laughing.  "  What 
awful  idea  has  that  stupid  little  head  of  yours  got  in  it  ? 
What  have  all  the  old  women  in  the  village  been  saying  ? 


A   LOVER  S    QUARREL.  I  7 1 

Do  not  hesitate,  I  can  see  in  your  eyes  that  I  am  right. 
Am  I  not  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  And  because  the  man  of  all  others  my  father  most 
loves  and  respects,  does  an  hundred  little  acts  of  kindness 
to  that  old  friend  and  his  family,  you — you — the  playmate 
and  companion  of  my  girlhood,  believe  me  capable  of  for- 
getting my  plighted  word — believe  that  I  would  be  false 
to  my  love,  my  life.  Oh,  Sally  ! " 

"  No,  no.  Sibyl,  I  did  not  believe  any  thing  of  the  kind. 
It  was  only  that  people  will  talk,  and  then  I  was  so  afraid 
it  might  get  to  his  ears,  you  know.  That  I — that  I — " 

"  That  you  thought  you  would  come  and  tell  me  your- 
self. And  was  that  kind  ?  Listen  to  me,  Sally.  All  the 
time  Sam.  was  away,  I  mean  before  you  were  married, 
when  you  used  to  change  as  often  as  an  April  day.  At 
one  time  coming  here  and  setting  by  this  fire  for  hours,  si- 
lent, with  the  big  tears  in  your  eyes,  dying  to  tell,  and  yet 
keeping  it  like  a  true  woman  to  yourself.  And  then  the 
next  day  dancing  and  coquetting  with  any  man  you  met  at 
any  frolic  in  the  neighborhood.  Suppose  now  I  had  gone 
to  you  and  told  you  all  the  idle  gossip  that  floats  in  a  Con- 
necticut village ;  what  would  you  have  said  to  me,  Sally  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Sibyl,  don't  speak  to  me  so.     Please  don't." 

"  Well,  but  listen  to  me,  Sally,  I  am  not  half  through 
yet.  You  loved  Sam  as  well,  perhaps,  as  I  love  Edward  ; 
but  you  had  never  told  him  so.  You  had  never  promised 
before  the  world  to  be  his  wife." 

"  But  suppose  these  things  get  to  Edward's  ears,  dear 
Sibyl — men  are  so  jealous  ?  " 

"  Is  woman's  faith  so  trifling  a  thing  ?     Are  trust  and 


172  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

confidence  and  belief  in  the  woman  he  is  about  to  make 
his  wife  as  nothing,  think  you,  in  his  eyes  ?  Do  you  doubt 
your  husband,  even  though  he  be  separated  from  you  ?  " 

"  No  ;  of  course  not.  But  men  are  so  different  from 
us,  Sibyl.  I  do  not  know  how  it  is,  but  they  seem  to  ex- 
pect every  thing  and  give  nothing.  Please  don't  be  angry 
with  me,  Sibyl.  It  would  break  my  heart  to  have  you  cold 
or  angry  with  me.  I  wish  I  had  never  said  a  word  to  you 
about  this,  I  do  !  " 

"  Angry  with  you  ?  Of  course  I  am  not  angry  with 
you,  Sally,  you  foolish  child.  I  am  very  glad  you  told  me 
what  you  did.  '  Trifles  light  as  air  '  become  strong  proofs 
sometimes.  There  has  not  been  a  thought  or  word  or  ac- 
tion which  the  whole  world  might  not  have  seen  or  heard 
or  known.  I  hid  my  love  for  him  ;  what  maidenly  woman 
does  not  hide  her  love  until  she  has  been  asked  ?  But 
now  I  glory  in  showing  to  the  world  that  the  man  who  is  to 
be  my  husband,  has  my  every  hope,  and  thought,  and  wish, 
and  fear.  I  love  him  next  to  my  God.  I  sometimes  think 
I  love  him  better.  Ah  me  !  God  forgive  me,  if  it  is  so, 
for  I  cannot  help  it !  " 

It  would  have  required  a  much  more  obdurate  heart 
than  that  of  Sally  Griswold  not  to  have  been  fully  con- 
vinced of  the  idle  character  of  her  own  suspicions.  There 
was  but  one  course  left  her — woman's  unfailing  remedy  in 
all  ills  and  woes.  She  cried.  And  Sibyl  cried  too. 
While  they  were  enjoying  what  might  well  be  called  this 
"  luxury  of  woe,"  Edward  walked  into  the  room.  His 
quick  eye  took  in  the  scene  at  once.  Nor  did  it  tend  to 
decrease  the  feeling  of  growing  jealousy,  which  Eph.'s  un- 
lucky words  had  fanned  into  a  blaze.  Yet  at  what  had  he 


A   LOVER  S    QUARREL.  173 

a  right  to  feel  even  the  premonitory  symptoms  of  jealousy  ? 
Did  not  Sibyl's  every  changing  thought,  which  chased  each 
other  across  her  speaking  face,  proclaim  he  was  their  sole 
object  ?  Was  not  every  movement  redolent  of  love  ?  Did 
not  those  deep,  pure,  brown  eyes  meet  his  with  all  the  in- 
nocent delight  of  a  woman's  loving  nature  ?  All  this  he 
admitted — all  this  and  more.  And  yet  he  was  jealous. 

Mrs.  Griswold  was  naturally  anxious  to  learn  the  story 
of  trial  and  imprisonment  through  which  he  had  passed, 
and  her  continued  questioning  did  not  tend  to  allay  the 
irritation  under  which  he  labored. 

Sibyl  endeavored  to  meet  and  parry  this  petty  exhibi- 
tion of  temper,  as  any  other  woman  would  have  done,  but, 
it  must  be  confessed,  with  but  little  success.  It  was  an 
intense  relief  to  her  when  her  friend  took  her  departure, 
and  they  two  were  left  to  themselves.  Yet  mingled  with 
this  regret  at  Edward's  temper,  there  was  in  Sibyl's  heart 
a  feeling  of  pleasure.  You  cannot  reason  about  it.  That 
strange  complex  creation,  the  human  heart,  always  finds  a 
certain  pleasure  in  being  the  object  of  a  jealous  passion, 
however  unfounded  or  ridiculous.  As  Edward  stood  there, 
his  back  against  the  fire,  his  handsome  face,  dark  and 
troubled,  his  eyes  seeking  yet  shunning  those  which  were 
upraised  to  his,  there  went  through  Sibyl's  heart  a  thrill 
which  she  would  not  have  been  a  woman  not  to  have  glo- 
ried in — 

"Edward!" 

"Well!" 

The  word  was  harshly  spoken.  Sibyl's  eyes  filled  at 
once.  Edward  bit  his  lips  to  avoid  showing  the  self-irrita- 
tion he  felt  at  having  so  spoken. 


174  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  What  is  it,  dear  ?    What  is  it  you  wish  to  say  ? " 

Edward  had  made  an  effort,  but  the  true  ring  was  not 
yet  in  the  words. 

"  In  what  way  have  I  annoyed  or  pained  you,  that  you 
look  at  me  so  ? " 

"  How  do  I  look  ?  This  is  childish,  Sibyl.  A  man 
can't  keep  his  face  eternally  in  a  broad  grin." 

"  Have  I  offended  you,  Edward  ?  " 

"  Offended  me  ?  How  should  you  of  all  persons  offend 
me  ?  You  are  mistress  of  your  own  actions." 

"  No,  dear,  I  am  not.  I  am  not  my  own  mistress,  and 
you  know  it." 

"  I !  How  should  I  know  it  ?    And  who  is,  pray  ?  " 

"  You  !  you  are.  Of  thoughts,  of  words,  of  actions,  of 
life  itself." 

Edward  turned  away,  and  his  laugh  stung  Sibyl  by  the 
latent  sneer  which  lurked  in  it. 

"  No,  dear,  you  sha'n't  turn  away.  I  am  not  going  to 
sacrifice  life's  happiness  even  to  avoid  a  sneer.  I  ask  again, 
how  have  I  offended  you  ?  " 

"  And  I  say  again — O  Sibyl !  why,  why  have  you  ceased 
to  love  me  ?  " 

"  Ceased  to  love  you,  Edward.  Why  my  whole  soul  is 
yours.  Who  says  such  a  thing  ?  Who  has  dared  to  throw 
out  such  an  insinuation  ?  " 

Edward  turned  suddenly  and  drew  a  chair  close  to 
the  one  on  which  she  was  sitting,  and  taking  one  of  her 
hands,  said : 

"  Sibyl,  hear  me.  I  make  no  charge,  I  bring  no  accusa- 
tion. When  you  accepted  me  for  your  husband,  you  knew 
I  was  poor.  You  knew  I  had  nothing  to  offer  you  except 


A    LOVER  S    QUARREL.  I  75 

what  I  could  wring  from  the  world  in  the  hard  struggle  of 
a  professional  life.  Should  I  escape  the  dangers  incident 
to  the  service  I  am  now  in,  it  will  be  only  to  commence 
again  at  the  very  lowest  round  of  the  ladder." 

"Do  I  ask  for  more,  dear,"  said  Sibyl,  laying  her 
other  hand  lovingly  on  his.  "  If  there  are  hardships,  I 
will  share  them,  if  by  so  doing  I  can  but  cheer  or  comfort 
you  in  the  struggle.  I  can  say  like  Ruth  of  old,  'thy 
people  shall  be  my  people/  yes,  and  '  thy  God  my  God. ' ' 

There  was  such  simple  trust  and  love  in  the  accent  of 
the  woman,  that  not  to  believe  her  was  impossible,  and 
yet — 

"  Listen  to  me,  Edward,"  Sibyl  said,  still  fondly  holding 
the  hand  she  had  clasped.  "  I  know  what  has  brought  on  this 
feeling,  this  jealousy,  for  it  is  nothing  but  that.  You  think, 
no,  you  do  not  think,  but  you  have  heard  from  some  foolish, 
meddlesome  person,  that  I  was  looking  regretfully  at  the 
'  flesh-pots  of  Egypt.'  Is  it  not  so  ?  I  thought  so,  dear. 
Now,  listen  to  me.  There  are  moments  when  a  woman  is 
justified  in  speaking,  even  if  she  betrays  the  secrets  of  an- 
other. This  is  one  of  them.  All  this  money,  this  position, 
this  station  in  the  world  could  have  been  mine.  It  was 
offered  me  before  you  asked  me  to  be  your  wife." 

"  I  know  Sibyl,  I  remember." 

"  Stop,  dear.  Hear  me  through,  Edward,  patiently, 
kindly,  lovingly.  Oh,  my  heart  yearns  so  for  your  love ! 
But  there  is  a  point,  dear,  beyond  which  the  most  loving 
woman's  nature  cannot  pass.  No  woman,  no  true  woman 
worthy  of  being  an  honest  man's  wife,  can  forfeit  her  self- 
respect.  Family,  wealth,  position,  all  these  are  as  nothing. 
God's  own  decree  is,  '  Ye  twain  shall  be  one.'  Your 


176  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

plaything,  your  toy,  I  cannot  be.  I  give  you  all,  for  I  de- 
mand all.  My  trust  is  as  boundless  as  my  love.  I  de- 
mand the  same." 

The  girl's  face  had  become  radiant  as  she  spoke.  Her 
whole  heart  looked  out  of  her  eyes.  Those  great,  deep, 
soul-lit  eyes.  How  contemptibly  small  he  felt  in  the  pres- 
ence of  such  a  character.  As  if  any  doubt  could  exist  where 
such  love  was.  He  had  said  nothing,  but  his  face  had  told 
all.  A  thrill  of  pride  ran  through  Sibyl,  as  she  raised  the 
hand  she  still  held  and  pressed  it  to  her  lips.  The  heart, 
unspoken,  had  asked  for  pardon,  and  it  had  been  sealed 
by  a  kiss. 

How  long  they  sat  thus  hand  locked  in  hand,  they 
knew  not.  In  after  years  one  of  the  two  would  recall  this 
hour,  the  deepest,  brightest,  softest  in  their  young  lives. 
It  seemed  almost  a  crime,  when  the  door  opened  and  Mr. 
Hamilton  walked  into  the  room.  He  rested  his  elbow  on 
the  mantel  and  looked  at  the  two  young  people  with  an 
amused  smile. 

"  I  have  passed  the  time  of  life,  Ned,  my  boy,"  he  said, 
"  when  a  man  thinks  it  a  shame  to  have  loved  a  woman. 
Have  loved,  did  I  say — to  still  love." 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  broke  in  Sibyl,  the  hot  blood 
rushing  tumultuously  to  every  feature,  "  how  can  you 
say—" 

"  How  can  I  say  what,  my  child  ?  That  I  love  you  ?•" 
There  was  a  tinge  of  sadness  in  the  voice.  It  was  the 
only  homage  he  paid  to  that  power  which  has  bound 
the  necks  of  the  mighty  of  this  earth.  "The  idle  gossip 
of  a  New  England  village  has  spread  it  to  the  four 
winds  of  heaven.  Had  that  been  all,  it  would  have  been 


A   LOVERS    QUARREL.  177 

but  as  the  idle  wind.  But  it  is  not  all.  These  same  tongues 
have  dared  to  couple  Arthur  Hamilton's  name  with  actions 
which,  only  to  have  dreamed  of,  would  have  been  dis- 
honor. Listen  to  me.  To  leave  the  army  now,  Edward, 
were  to  forswear  the  blood  you  came  from.  You  cannot 
put  your  hand  to  the  plough  and  look  back.  Trust  this 
girl,  during  your  absence,  to  my  care.  Surely  " — a  merry 
smile  ran  across  his  features — "  a  young  knight  does  not 
fear  a  weather-beaten,  worn-out  veteran  as  a  rival  in  any 
love  passage.  And  you,  Sibyl,"  he  took  her  hand,  "  may 
I  not  be  a  brother,  a  kind,  a  loving,  an  elder  brother ! 
There,  I  thought  so.  Now  we  can  face  even  the  redoubt- 
able Deacon  Knapp." 

It  was  strange  the  power  which  this  man  wielded.  Ed- 
ward was  angry.  He  was  hurt  sorely  in  man's  tenderest 
feelings,  in  his  empire,  as  he  had  thought,  over  the  woman 
he  loved.  And  with  it  all,  it  needed  but  a  bright  glance  of 
the  eye,  one  warm  grasp  of  a  hand  he  felt  was  honest  and 
true  and  manly,  and  his  suspicions  had  melted  into  thin 
air. 

Edward  had  his  preparations  to  make  for  his  departure. 
His  leave  only  extended  for  ten  days,  and  such  was  the 
difficulty  of  travelling  in  those  times,  that  more  than  half 
had  already  been  expended.  Although  angry  at  Eph., 
whose  insinuations  had  raised  all  the  tumult  in  his  breast, 
Edward  was  still  too  well  aware  of  the  dog-like  fidelity  of 
the  man,  and  of  the  deep,  earnest  affection  he  treasured  for 
him,  not  to  desire  he  should  again  be  his  companion.  He 
therefore  sought  him  out,  and  after  some  preliminary  fenc- 
ing, asked  the  blunt  question — 

"  What  made  you  think  Sibyl  had  jilted  me,  Eph.  ?  " 


178  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  What  say  ?  "  responded  the  other,  his  face  assuming  at 
once  the  want  of  expression  of  a  wooden  image. 

Edward  bit  his  lips.  He  saw  his  mistake.  The  ques- 
tion had  been  too  abrupt.  "  You  were  telling  me,  Eph., 
this  morning,"  said  Edward,  carelessly  throwing  his  leg 
over  the  arm  of  a  chair.  They  were  in  the  bar  room  of  the 
village  tavern.  "  You  said,  I  think  this  morning,  that  you 
thought  the  Squire  had  not  fully  gotten  over  his  feeling 
for  our  Sibyl." 

There  was  something  very  tempting  to  Eph.  in  the  way 
this  was  put.  It  identified  him  at  once  with  the  family, 
and  it  paid  a  silent  and  therefore  none  the  less  appreciated 
compliment  to  his  sagacity. 

"  I  disremember,  Ned,  saying  any  thing  so  bold  of  my 
neighbors." 

"  Well,  perhaps  it  was  not  said  in  exactly  that  language  ; 
but  you  thought  you  would  put  me  on  my  guard." 

"  Guard  ! "  said  Eph.,  "  was  there  any  thing  to  guard 
against  ? " 

"  Confound  the  fellow  !  "  muttered  Edward.  "  See  here, 
Eph.,  you  and  I  are  friends  of  long  standing.  I  can  speak 
with  you  as  I  could  not  with  any  other  man.  I  have  had 
a  talk  with  Hamilton,  and  he  is  a  noble,  high-toned  gentle- 
man." 

"  So." 

"  And  I  am  indebted  to  him  for  more  favors  than  I  can 
tell.  He  has  obtained  for  me  a  place  on  the  staff." 

"Jistso." 

"  Look  here,  once  for  all ;  are  you  going  back  to  the 
army  with  me  on  Friday,  or  are  you  not  ?  "  Edward's  tone 
was  angry,  and  his  face  had  flushed. 


A   LOVER  S    QUARREL.  I  79 

Eph.  had  assumed  the  same  attitude  which  Edward  had 
relinquished. 

"  There's  no  use  in  you're  getting  your  dander  up  with 
me,  Ed.  There's  no  more  fight  in  me  than  in  a  dunghill 
cock,  where  you're  consarned.  I  have  thought  the  matter 
over  a  bit,  and  the  next  time  Ephraim  Dodge  puts  his 
fingers  betwixt  a  pair  of  scissors,  you  can  tell  him  of  it, 
you  can." 

Any  anger  Edward  may  have  felt  disappeared  in  the 
hearty  burst  of  laughter  which  Eph.'s  frank  confession  called 
forth. 

It  was  with  a  sigh  of  intense  relief  that  Eph.  slowly 
raised  himself  from  his  chair,  and  faced  the  now  smiling 
young  man. 

"  You  ax  me  if  I's  going  back  with  you  ?  In  course 
I  am  ;  and  the  day  you  are  wiped  out  " — he  made  a  long 
pause,  —  his  eyes  twinkled  with  suppressed  fun  as  he 
chuckled  rather  than  said — 

"  'Twould  have  done  your  heart  good,  Ned,  had  you  seen 
the  Deacon,  jist  for  all  nature  sich  another  darned  fool  as 
I  be.  He  sot  before  him  the  task  of  speaking  the  '  word 
in  season  '  to  the  Squire.  He  wasn't  gone  more  nor  half 
an  hour.  I  was  to  meet  him  on  the  piazza,  here.  Lord, 
how  he  did  quilt  the  old  horse  as  he  went  by  here.  He 
looked  neither  to  the  right  hand  nor  to  the  left.  I  knows 
you're  temperate,  but  on  this  '  propetious  occasion,'  as  they 
say  on  the  Fourth  of  July,  Billy,"  addressing  himself  to  the 
innkeeper,  "jist  you  make  the  Captain  and  I  two  of  the 
hottest  and  stiffest  glasses  of  Jamaica  you  ever  made  in 
your  life.  Now  Ed.,  let's  call  this  quits." 


CHAPTER  XVI. 


THE    HUDSON. 

"  The  gales  that  rush  o'er  hills  of  snow 
The  ruddy  cheek  of  health  bestow ; 
To  manly  firmness  brace  the  nerve, 
And  mental  purity  preserve." — OLD  SONG. 

LOW  range  of  mountains  divides  the  western 
part  of  Connecticut  from  the  Hudson  River. 
These  are,  in  fact,  a  prolongation  of  the  Green 
Mountains  of  Vermont,  and  although  not  by  any 
means  so  lofty,  resemble  them  in  general  outline.  The  road 

from  D led  Mason  and  his  companion  by  a  succession 

of  valleys,  winding  in  and  out  among  the  hills,  and  past 
numerous  little  lakes,  which  glittered  blue  and  cold  in  the 
winter  sunlight.  Their  first  day's  ride  brought  them  to 
the  little  village  of  South-East,  on  the  borders  of  the  Croton, 
then  a  rushing,  brawling  mountain  stream.  As  the  tired 
horse  plunged  his  nostrils  in  the  clear  water,  Mason  little 
thought,  a  few  short  years,  and  this  same  river  would  be 
feeding  the  necessities  of  the  metropolis  of  the  western 
world. 

Evening  had  closed  in  as  the  two  men  reached  the  vil- 
(180) 


THE    HUDSON.  l8l 

lage  of  Fishkill  Landing,  and  it  was  with  a  sense  of  in- 
tense enjoyment  that  Edward  sat  down  by  the  bright  fire 
in  the  bar  room  of  the  old  "  Star  Inn."  His  happiness 
was,  however,  of  short  duration ;  the  ever-inquiring  mind  of 
Eph.  had  discovered  the  fact  that  the  intense  coldness  of 
the  night  was  likely  to  close  the  river,  and  that  travel  might 
necessarily  be  suspended  for  several  days. 

"  Come  out  here,  Ned,  and  look  for  yourself,"  said 
Eph.,  dragging  Edward  by  the  arm  on  to  the  piazza  which 
ran  along  the  front  of  the  inn.  A  strong  north-west  wind 
was  blowing,  and  the  black  scud  at  times  hid  the  face  of 
the  mountains,  which  lay  cold  and  dark  in  the  moonlight. 

Edward  was  fascinated  by  the  scene.  The  broad  river 
was  dotted  by  specks  of  white,  as  the  foam  of  the  dashing 
waves  sparkled  and  glittered  like  silver.  Immediately  in 
front  of  him  rose  the  rough  barrier  of  old  "  Butter  Hill," 
and  away  off  to  the  right  he  could  trace  the  faint  outline  of 
the  "  Shawangunk,"  the  outpost  or  sentry,  as  it  were,  of 
the  mighty  range  of  the  Alleghanies.  How  insignificant 
were  the  petty  quarrels  of  even  nations,  as  compared  with 
the  gigantic  efforts  of  nature  !  Where  was  man  when  this 
inland  sea  had  burst  its  way  through  these  "  Everlasting 
Mounds,"  in  its  struggle  to  reach  the  ocean  ?  And  what 
was  his  or  any  mortal  intellect,  to  the  "  Great  Unknown," 
who  held  them  prisoners  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand.  Even 
Eph.'s  prosaic  nature  was  moved. 

"  Isn't  it  beautiful !  "  he  said.  "Just  what  I  call  'pic- 
terskeu.'  Wouldn't  the  old  man  go  mad  over  this  'ere 
place.  But  this  don't  get  us  to  Newburg." 

"  Why  can't  we  stay  here  all  night,  and  cross  comfortably 
by  .daylight  ?  "  asked  Edward. 


1 82  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  Plain  as  the  nose  on  your  face,  if  ye'll  only  think. 
When  this  wind  goes  down,  the  ice  will  form  faster  than  a 
horse  can  trot.  There's  an  old  fellow  down  here  as  has 
run  this  ferry  twenty  years  and  better  ;  he  says,  says  he, 
'  if  your  bound  to  get  over,  now's  your  time.'  'Tain't  nothing 
to  me.  I  ain't  on  duty,  but  I  kinder  think  as  how  you'd 
like  to  get  forrard.'  " 

"  Of  course  I  would.  Make  the  best  bargain  you  can 
Eph.,  I  leave  it  all  to  you." 

"  I've  got  the  old  man  down  to  twenty  York  shillings," 
replied  Eph.,  "  and  it  kinder  goes  agin  the  grain  to  specu- 
late further.  It's  true,  I  told  him  I'd  help  him  with  the 
oars  myself,  and  that  you  were  kinder  light,  and  didn't 
count  for  much.  Der  ye  see." 

Edward  laughed  as  he  went  back  into  the  warm  room 
and  began  making  preparations  for  the  trip.  The  boat,  a 
broad  fishing  skiff,  capable  of  holding  ten  men,  was  drawn 
up  under  the  lee  of  the  low  dock,  over  which  the  spray 
broke,  freezing  as  it  fell,  until  its  timbers  were  incrusted 
with  ice.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  the  two  men  forced 
the  boat  through  the  broken  fragments  of  ice,  which  wind 
and  tide  had  cast  on  the  shore,  and  for  some  moments  it 
was  doubtful  if  they  could  reach  the  dark  water  beyond. 
What  Eph.  lacked  in  nautical  skill,  he  made  up  in  hearty 
good-will,  and  the  tough  ash  oar  bent  under  his  efforts. 
The  cold  was  intense;  although  still  in  December,  the 
winter  had  begun  severely,  and  the  masses  of  floating  ice 
were  so  solid  as  to  defy  any  attempts  to  break  through 
them. 

"  It's  worse  than  I  thought,"  said  the  old  fisherman,  as 
he  rested  for  a  moment  to  dry  the  freezing  spray  which 


THE    HUDSON.  183 

clung  to  his  grizzled  beard.  "  We're  hardly  off  the  flats 
yet,  and  hain't  got  the  full  force  of  the  tide.  When  the 
tide's  three-quarters  ebb,  we  always  get  it  worse  on  the 
Nevvburg  side.  It  stands  to  reason,  as  the  water's  deep- 
er, de  yer  see." 

Utterly  helpless,  Edward  could  only  cower  down  in  the 
stern  and  seek  for  warmth  in  the  wrappings  with  which  he 
was  provided.  Yet  there  was  something  inexpressibly 
magnificent  in  the  scene.  The  boat  was  so  low  that  the 
outline  of  the  shore  was  lost  in  the  dashing  spray,  and  it 
appeared  as  if  they  were  driving  aimlessly  in  a  waste  of 
water.  As  he  turned  his  eyes  to  the  south,  the  amphi- 
theatre of  hills  rose  dark  and  threatening  in  the  moon- 
light, bringing  into  relief  the  granite  walls,  bare  and  naked 
a  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of  the  tide.  Every  out- 
line in  the  mountains  was  distinct ;  a  soft  haze  lay  in  the 
valley,  which,  like  morning  mist,  at  intervals  was  swept 
away  by  the  wind,  and  showed  the  ridges,  the  lower  hills 
and  the  shadowy  forms  of  other  hills,  as  they  rose  one 
after  another  in  endless  succession.  It  almost  seemed  as 
if  the  Dutch  legend,  of  the  Herr  of  the  Dunderberg,  was 
about  to  be  realized  and  he  was  asserting  his  supremacy 
over  wind  and  tide.  The  silence,  which  had  lasted  some 
minutes,  was  broken  by  the  old  fisherman,  who  had  noticed 
'Eph.'s'  labored  breathing,  as  he  tugged  resolutely  at  his 
oar. 

"  There's  no  use  of  your  bursting  yourself.  You  ain't 
much  at  a  pull,  although  you're  mighty  willing  like.  We're 
in  for  a  good  two  hours'  pull,  anyhow."  The  old  man 
stopped  speaking  and  scanned  the  horizon  closely. 

"  tt  was  a  tempting  of  Providence  when  we  started. 


,  184  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

But  twenty  York  shillings  ain't  to  be  made  so  easy  like, 
nowadays.  And  I've  got  them  little  children  to  take  care 
of,  anyhow."  The  old  man  spoke  in  a  sad,  low  tone,  so 
that  his  words  could  hardly  be  heard  by  the  listeners  in 
the  boat,  both  of  whom  were  struck,  however,  by  the  anx- 
iety displayed  in  his  manner. 

The  river  at  the  point  where  they  were  making  this 
passage  is  rather  more  than  a  mile  in  width.  The  strength 
of  the  wind,  joined  to  the  fact  of  the  tide  being  ebb,  had 
drifted  the  boat  more  than  two  miles  down  the  stream, 
although  not  more  than  two  thirds  of  the  distance  had 
been  accomplished.  The  reason  the  fisherman  had  so 
closely  studied  the  horizon  was  soon  evident  to  bo'th  the 
other  men.  The  outline  of  a  large  field  of  ice,  which  was 
rapidly  drifting  down  on  them,  could  now  be  clearly  seen. 
The  set  of  the  current  threw  this  mass,  which  must  have 
covered  several  acres  in  extent,  between  them  and  the 
shore,  and  it  was  obvious  that  to  pass  it  they  must  head 
due  north,  up  the  river.  The  wind,  as  is  generally  the 
case  about  the  turn  of  the  tide,  had,  in  a  great  degree, 
died  away,  but  this  rather  increased  than  diminished  their 
danger,  as  it  permitted  the  formation  of  ice  which,  even 
in  the  few  minutes  in  which  this  scene  had  occurred,  sen- 
sibly retarded  the  boat. 

Edward,  prevented  by  his  position  in  the  skiff  from 
any  active  exertion,  felt  his  faculties  becoming  rapidly 
benumbed  by  the  intense  cold.  Their  situation  was  peril- 
ous in  the  extreme,  and  he  was  obliged,  for  the  sake  of 
momentary  warmth,  to  have  recourse  to  a  flask  of  spirits. 
The  old  man  shook  his  head. 

"  If  you  once  begin  you've  got  ,to  go  on.     But  I  sup- 


THE    HUDSON.  185 

pose  it  can't  be  helped  ;  you're  not  accustomed  to  the  cold 
like  I  is."  The  words  came  out  in  jerks,  for  the  man  was 
laboring  as  severely  as  Eph.,  and  despite  the  difficulties 
in  their  way,  the  boat  was  making  rapid  progress. 

The  dangerous  field  was  passed,  and  again  the  boat 
was  headed  obliquely  for  the  western  shore.  Perfect  still- 
ness was  kept,  only  broken  by  the  labored  breathing  of 
the  rowers,  when  suddenly  the  fisherman  leaned  forward 
and  violently  shook  Edward.  He  had  fallen  asleep,  and 
to  sleep  now  might  be  to  wake  no  more.  The  effort 
which  the  young  man  made  to  struggle  to  his  feet  almost 
upset  the  boat. 

"  My  God  !  "  exclaimed  Eph.,  "  something's  got  to  be 
done,  or  Ed.  '11  die." 

"  You've  called  on  the  right  name  young  man.  He's 
the  only  one  as  can  help  us.  Look  there,"  and  he  pointed 
to  the  dark  outline  of  another  ice  field,  which,  unnoticed 
in  their  violent  exertions,  was  almost  on  them.  The  tide 
had  turned,  but  the  wash  of  the  waves  still  urged  it  for- 
ward ;  its  vast  extent  placed  the  boat  in  still  water ;  the 
effect  was  almost  immediately  felt,  the  ice  formed  so  rapidly 
that  it  was  with  extreme  difficulty  they  reached  the  edge 
of  the  field.  Further  progress  was  impossible.  Edward 
had  again  sunk  back  into  the  stern  sheets,  the  stupor  of 
death  was  slowly  creeping  over  mind  and  body. 

"  'Twas  the  drink  as  done  it ;  I  knowed  it  when  I  saw 
him  take  the  damned  stuff ;  the  Lord  forgive  me  cursing 
in  this  our  peril."  He  searched  with  trembling  hands  as 
he  spoke,  for  the  fatal  flask. 

"We  must  pour  it  down  him  now.  It's  our  only 
hope." 


1 86  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  Don't  stand  there  a-doing  nothing,"  said  Eph.,  as  he 
made  an  attempt  to  spring  on  the  ice,  "  Let's  take  him 
atween  us.  I  see  lights  thar,  perhaps  we  may  make  them 
hear  us.  It's  our  only  chance  of  a-saving  of  Ned." 

"  Stop,  stop  !  "  cried  the  old  man,  clutching  at  the  skirts 
of  his  coat.  "  Don't  be  overventuresome." 

He  took  as  he  spoke  an  oar  in  his  hand  and  struck  the 
shaft  violently  against  the  ice.  A  report  almost  like  a  pis- 
tol followed,  as  a  long  crack  ran  up  the  river. 

"  'Twill  bear  ye.  If  the  stick  goes  through  you're  sartin 
to  go  through,  sooner  or  later." 

As  he  was  speaking  Eph.  had  scrambled  on  the  ice,  and 
was  stamping  his  feet,  and  thrashing  with  his  arms  to  re- 
store circulation. 

"  Come,"  he  said,  "  let  us  take  him  atween  us.  We  may 
make  the  shore  ;  it's  our  only  chance." 

"  No  ;  it  can't  be  did.  I'm  old.  My  babies,  my  poor 
babies,  and  Willie,  their  daddy,  is  away  at  the  war.  God's 
will  be  done." 

"  Rouse  yourself,  old  man,  rouse  yourself,"  said  Eph., 
shaking  him  by  the  coat,  for  the  deadly  cold  was  creeping 
over  the  tough  old  weather-beaten  fisherman. 

"  My  son,"  he  laid  his  hand  almost  tenderly  in  that  of 
Eph.'s,  "  this  here  boy  is  gone.  Leave  the  old  and  use- 
less to  perish.  Take  an  oar,  and  keep  it  across  ye,  'twill 
hold  ye  up  if  ye  fall  in." 

"  What !  and  leave  you  and  Ned  to  perish,"  shouted 
Eph.  "  If  I  do  I'll  be " 

"  Go,  go,"  muttered  the  old  man.  "  I  must  sleep,  or  I 
shall  die." 

The  wind  had  entirely  died  away,  and  Eph.  thought  he 


THE    HUDSON.  1 87 

could  hear  the  faint  sound  of  voices  on  the  shore.  What 
should  he  do  ?  He  was  alone,  absolutely  alone.  The 
bright  December  moon  shone  down  clear  and  cold,  bring- 
ing out  the  outlines  of  the  mountains,  which  seemed  to 
slumber  in  their  shadows  in  perfect  stillness. 

Divesting  himself  of  his  outer  coat,  he  wrapped  it  ten- 
derly around  Edward,  and  after  a  vain  effort  to  force 
spirits  down  their  throats,  which  the  fisherman  only  re- 
sisted— Edward  was  too  far  sunk  in  stupor  to  feel  any- 
thing— he  took  the  flask  with  the  muttered  exclamation, 
"  'Twon't  help  them,  and  it  may  me.  I  suppose  I  must  do 
it.  It's  durn  mean,  but  it's  the  only  thing.  Thank  the 
Lord  !  if  he  goes,  I  goes  with  him." 

He  took  the  oar  in  his  hand  and  turned  towards  the 
shore.  Some  imperceptible  set  of  the  current  had  caused 
the  field  of  ice  to  drift  in  that  direction,  and  Eph.  was 
not  more  than  a  hundred  yards  from  the  land  when  he  had 
crossed  the  ice.  He  shouted  at  the  top  of  his  voice,  again 
and  again,  and  to  his  intense  joy,  his  cries  were  answered. 

The  united  exertions  of  four  strong  men  soon  brought  a 
boat  to  the  place  where  Edward  and  the  fisherman  lay 
slumbering.  It  required  all  the  care  and  attention  of  the 
new-comers  to  restore  sufficient  circulation  to  enable  them 
to  be  half  led  half  carried  into  the  nearest  house. 

The  severity  of  the  cold  only  lasted  a  few  hours,  and  on 
the  second  day,  as  Edward  stood  sunning  himself  on  the 
bank,  watching  the  deep,  silent  river,  and  the  soft  haze 
which  seemed  to  float  over  every  feature  of  the  landscape, 
he  had  difficulty  in  believing  the  incident  had  not  been 
some  horrible  nightmare. 

The  rest  of  their  journey  passed  without   any  thinj 


I  88  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

worthy  of  note,  and  it  was  on  the  morning  of  the  fourth  day 
that  the  stage  deposited  them  in  the  little  village  of 
Sackett's  Harbor.  Edward  instantly  made  his  way  to  the 
head-quarters  of  the  General,  and  giving  his  name  was 
ushered  into  a  good-sized  apartment,  half  bedroom  half 
office.  A  bright  fire  was  burning,  and  at  a  table  drawn 
close  to  its  blaze  sat  an  officer  busily  writing.  He  did  not 
raise  his  head  as  Edward  entered,  but  in  a  quiet  tone  of 
voice  asked  him  to  be  seated.  Edward  had  an  opportu- 
nity to  study  the  air  and  appearance  of  his  new  commander. 

General  Jacob  Brown  was  then  just  coming  into  notice. 
Taken,  as  was  said  of  him,  "  like  Cincinnatus  from  the 
plough,"  he  seemed  to  possess  naturally  every  attribute  of 
a  commander.  Tall  and  powerfully  built,  his  face,  without 
being  handsome,  was  attractive  and  pleasing.  His  eyes 
were  large  and  dark,  and  when  he  smiled,  the  charm  of  his 
manner  was  irresistible.  What  surprised  Edward  most  was 
the  familiarity  which  the  air  and  features  of  this  officer 
seemed  to  have  to  him.  Where  had  he  met  him  before  ? 
As  he  was  racking  his  brain  to  find  an  answer,  the  General 
folded  up  the  paper  he  had  been  writing,  and  handed  it  to 
a  soldier  in  attendance,  and  turning  to  Edward,  said  with  a 
smile, 

"  Ah,  my  young  friend,  this  is  not  so  romantic  as  sail- 
ing by  moonlight  on  the  Hudson." 

It  came  back  to  him  like  a  flash.  He  was  the  charming 
companion  of  his  first  voyage  up  the  Hudson  river. 

"  I  never  forget  a  man,"  continued  the  General,  "  and 
you  struck  me  at  once  as  one  likely  to  do  his  duty.  It  did 
not  need  Hamilton's  repeated  letters  in  your  favor  to  make 
me  ask  for  you  when  I  was  in  a  position  to  give  you 


THE    HUDSON..  189 

proper  employment.  Go  now  and  get  thee  something  to 
eat.  Thee  must  be  tired.  Thee  has  had  quarters  assigned 
thee  in  this  house.  In  an  hour  more  I  would  like  to  talk 
with  thee." 

Edward  found  his  companions  on  the  staff  agreeable, 
pleasant  young  men,  but  there  was  what  he  had  never  seen 
before  during  his  service  as  a  soldier,. an  intense  application 
to  duty.  Although  in  all  respects  courteous  to  their  new 
comrade,  and  anxious  to  hear  the  news  from  the  outside 
world,  but  a  few  moments  could  be  given  to  conversation, 
and  Edward  was  soon  in  the  presence  of  the  General. 

General  Brown  motioned  to  Edward  to  draw  a  chair 
up  to  the  fire. 

"  Captain  Mason,  the  chief  of  my  staff,  which  you  now 
are,  must  be  my  inner  self — think,  feel,  and  act  as  I  do. 
In  three  words,  we  are  expected  to  hold,  with  utterly  in- 
adequate means,  perhaps  the  most  important  post  on  this 
frontier.  Our  force,  mostly  militia,  whose  term  of  service 
will  expire  in  a  few  days.  A  few  regulars,  the  nucleus  of 
something  better,  I  trust.  The  army  proper,  scattered  and 
dispersed  to  the  four  winds.  At  such  a  time  as  this,  infor- 
mation is  more  precious  than  gold." 

He  paused  and  looked  into  the  fire.  At  length  he  went 
on — 

"  In  sheer  madness,  Armstrong,the  secretary  at  war,  has 
ordered  an  indefensible  village  on  the  Canada  side  to  be 
burned,  and  hundreds  of  poor  wretches  are  turned  house- 
less to  the  mercy  of  a  Canada  winter.  Of  course  the 
British  will  retaliate,  and  when  will  they  strike  this  place  ? 
To-morrow  morning  at  daylight  a  boat  and  crew  will  be 
ready.  Somewhere  among  the  western  islands,  you  will 


IQO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

meet  with  a  spy.  Thee  has  got  to  find  him  out  thyself. 
I  can  give  thee  no  clue.  Keep  your  own  counsel,  even 
from  the  officer  in  charge  of  the  boat.  Do  not  run  into 
needless  danger,  but  bring  me  back,  if  thee  can,  the  infor- 
mation I  require.  Good-night." 

Mason  found  Eph.  completely  master  of  the  situation. 
He  had  used  his  eyes  and  ears  to  good  purpose. 

"You  had  better,  Cap  " — Eph  had  fallen  back  into  his 
professional  manners — "  try  and  get  what  you  most  need 
in  the  village,  as  they  say  our  baggage  may  be  will  be  more 
than  a  month  on  the  road." 

"  Oh,  I  can  make  myself  comfortable  with  very  little. 
Now  look  here,  Eph.,  I  have  got  to  set  off  at  daylight.  I 
am  so  tired  I  may  oversleep  myself,  just  see  I  am  called, 
will  you  ? " 

"Daylight,  eh.  Don't  see  how  I  can  get  you  new 
boots  by  that  time,"  then  holding  up  as  he  spoke  the  sole 
of  one  for  inspection,  which  Edward  had  just  taken  off  : 
"  won't  tote  you  much  farther,  as  the  Southern  darkeys 
say." 

"No  matter,"  said  Edward,  "  they  will  do  my  business 
until  I  get  back." 

"  So,"  muttered  Eph.,  as  he  stretched  himself  in  front 
of  the  fire,  "  you're  going  to  ride,  or  maybe  you're  going  by 
boat.  No  matter,  we  will  see  in  the  morning." 


CHAPTER  XVII. 


THE   SPY. 

"  There  was  a  laughting  devil  in  his  sneer." 

"THE  CORSAIR." 


fiT  was  still  dark  when  Edward  felt  himself 
rather  roughly  shaken  and  heard  Eph.'s  voice. 
"  I  ain't  got  no  watch,  but  I  kinder  think 
it's  near  daylight.  I  can't  make  this  plaguey 
fire  burn  nohow.  You'll  have  to  take  a  dry  polish  this 
morning,  all  the  water's  frozen  stiff." 

Never  was  a  man  more  reluctant  than  Edward  to  turn 
out  from  his  comfortable  bed  into  the  cold-  He  found 
that  his  faithful  friend  had  warmed  some  coffee  and  suc- 
cessfully foraged  in  the  house  so  as  to  procure  him  quite  a 
passable  meal  of  cold  meat  and  bread. 

"  I've  been  thinking,  Ed.,  that  I  won't  list  yet.  You  can 
afford  me  board  and  lodging  and  I  will  look  after  your 
things  like  :  the  Lord  knows  they  want  it  bad  enough. 
You  see  it's  blamed  easy  to  say  yes  any  time,  and  not  so 
easy  to  take  the  back  track,  when  it  comes  to  the  fighting. 
I  kinder  think  the  old  man  down  stairs'll  find  me  a  place 
— he  looks  like  one  of  them  chaps." 

As  Eph.  was  talking,  more  to  himself  than  to  Edward, 
he  had  made  up  a  bundle  of  substantial  sandwiches,  and 
carefully  examined  Edward's  pocket  flask,  pouring  out  and 
drinking  quite  a  stiff  horn. 

"That's  real  old  Connecticut  apple-jack.    I  must  do 

(191) 


SIBYL    SPENCER. 

them  democrats  the  justice  to  say,  most  on  'em  knows  good 
liquor.  Now  I'll  be  darned  if  that  wasn't  made  by  Major 
Baylies.  He's  fit  for  nothing  else.  See  here,  Ned."  Edward 
was  by  this  time  through  with  his  hasty  breakfast  and 
showed  signs  of  moving.  "  Jist  you  set  down  there  and 
write  me  two  or  three  lines,  saying  as  how  I  am  your 
help."  Eph.  could  not  bring  himself  to  say  servant.  "  I 
hain't  got  no  idea  of  seeing  the  inside  of  a  guard-house  if 
I  knows  it.  So  that's  all  right.  Yer  got  any  money  ? 
Don't  be  afraid  to  borrow.  I'll  charge  it  agin  your  estate, 
if  you  don't  come  back.  Yer  needn't  look  at  your  pis- 
tols, I  loaded  them  myself  after  ye  were  to  sleep.  Good- 
by,  take  care  yerself."  He  followed  Edward  with  his 
eyes  as  far  down  the  still  dark  street  as  he  was  able,  and 
as  he  mounted  the  stairs  he  muttered  :  "  Wish  I  was  going 
with  him.  He's  rash.  The  old  man  must  be  a  judge  of 
human  nature.  That  orderly  said  he  never  saw  him  take 
so  to  a  man  as  he  did  to  our  Ed.  Something's  up,  depend 
on  it.  Wish  I  had  a  hand  in." 

Edward  soon  reached  the  lake,  and  on  the  long  wharf, 
which  extended  some  distance  from  the  shore,  he  saw  the 
dark  forms  of  two  men.  One  was  the  sentinel  on  guard, 
who  instantly  challenged.  Edward  had  been  furnished 
with  the  countersign,  and  the  sentinel  promptly  brought 
his  piece  to  the. "carry  "  as  he  passed  by  him.  The  other 
form,  thickly  muffled  in  a  boat  cloak,  answered  his  ques- 
tion by  saying, 

"A  boat's  crew,  under  my  command,  are  placed  at  the 
orders  of  Captain  Mason  ;  are  you  he  ?  " 

The  voice  sounded  familiar,  and  the  growing  light 
showed  the  fine,  strong,  handsome  figure  of  Sam  Griswold. 


THE    SPY.  193 

"Why  Sam.,"  said  Edward,  "  what  rare  piece  of  luck 
has  thrown  us  together  ? "  warmly  shaking  again  and  again 
the  hand  of  his  old  school-mate.  Nothing  could  exceed 
the  pleasure  which  both  men  felt,  and  as  Griswold  drew 
Edward  towards  the  barge,  he  almost  hugged  him  with 
delight.  There  was  a  heavy  fog  on  the  lake,  and  Griswold 
was  soon  obliged  to  give  all  his  attention  to  the  course  they 
were  rowing.  The  boat  was  a  very  large  one,  pulling  eight 
oars  on  each  side,  being  what  is  called  double  banked,  i.  e., 
two  rowers  on  each  bench.  No  word  was  said  by  either 
as  to  their  destination,  and  as  by  degrees  the  fog  lifted 
under  the  influence  of  the  winter  sun,  Edward  saw  they 
were  some  distance  from  the  shore  and  slowly  drawing- 
towards  the  entrance  of  the  St.  Lawrence  river.  The 
weather  had  not  yet  been  severe  enough  to  close  the  lake 
to  ordinary  navigation,  although  there  were  large  quantities 
of  floating  ice.  As  the  wind  freshened  Griswold  set  a  lug- 
sail  and  their  progress  became  very  swift. 

The  seamen,  as  well  as  Griswold  himself,  although  heavily 
clothed,  were  in  full  uniform,  and  were  all  armed.  Evi- 
'dently  no  concealment  was  desired.  To  Edward's  inquiries 
as  to  their  destination,  Griswold  could  only  answer,  "  My 
orders  are  to  take  a  Captain  Mason  to  a  certain  point  on 
Great  Island,  and  then  wait  his  orders.  More  than  that 
I  know  nothing." 

The  time  passed  rapidly.  The  two  young  men  were 
full  of  mutual  inquiries,  and  it  was  with  regret  that  Edward 
heard  the  order  given  to  take  in  the  lug  and  pull  the  heavy 
boat  slowly  towards  the  shore.  The  point  which  they  had 
reached  was  heavily  wooded,  and  as  most  of  the  trees  were 
evergreen,  afforded  a  safe  and  perfectly  secluded  anchor- 


194  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

age.  As  they  rounded  the  point  they  came  suddenly  on  a 
long  canoe  drawn  up  on  the  shore,  similar  to  the  ordinary 
boats  used  by  the  French  habitats  of  the  country. 
Griswold  immediately  ordered  his  men  to  stop  pulling,  and 
directed  half  of  them  to  take  their  arms,  and  then  slowly 
allowed  the  barge  to  drift  towards  the  little  sandy  beach. 
As  the  keel  of  the  boat  grated  on  the  shore,  Mason  sprang 
out  and  the  barge  was  immediately  shoved  off  and  held 
stationary  a  short  distance  from  the  land. 

Edward  pushed  his  way  through  the  fringe  of  low 
bushes,  and  after  going  a  few  feet  found  himself  in  the 
presence  of  three  men  who  were  sitting  round  a  small  fire 
apparently  in  the  act  of  cooking  their  dinner.  Two  of  the 
men  were  dressed  in  the  common  clothes  of  the  Canadian 
peasant,  and  had  a  half-stupid,  half-cunning  look,  so  pecu- 
liar to  their  race.  They  were  evidently  only  the  boatmen 
in  attendance  on  the  other  member  of  the  party,  who  had 
the  dress  and  bearing  of  a  gentleman.  He  resolutely  kept 
hig  head  bent  over  the  fire,  and  his  slouched  hat  was  drawn 
down  so  low  that  Mason  was  unable  to  distinguish  his 
features.  Completely  in  the  dark  as  to  whom  he  was  to' 
meet,  or  in  what  manner  they  were  to  recognize  each  other, 
Mason  determined  to  take  the  initiative. 

"  Well,  gentlemen,"  he  said,  "  what  sport  ?  " 

Without  raising  his  eyes,  or  noticing  in  any  way  his 
presence,  the  man  answered  in  a  bold,  clear  voice,  which 
struck  Edward  as  familiar,  the  single  word  "  one." 

"  I  said,"  he  exclaimed  as  Edward  stood  hesitatingly 
before  him,  and  rising  as  he  spoke,  to  his  feet,  "  one  fish 
was  all  we  had  taken." 

As  a  long  string  of  fish  lay  extended  on  the  snow,  Ed- 


THE    SPY.  195 

ward  was  if  possible  even  more  puzzled  at  such  an  unne- 
cessary falsehood.  The  man  pushed  back,  as  he  spoke, 
the  brim  of  his  hat,  and  Edward  immediately  recognized 
the  disgraced  gambler,  his  quondam  host,  Capt.  Quincey. 
It  was  several  minutes  before  either  of  them  spoke,  when 
at  length  Quincey  broke  the  silence  by  saying — 

"  Captain  Mason  is  again  welcome  to  the  territory  of 
his  Majesty.  May  I  ask  what  are  his  intentions  in  thus 
intruding  himself  ? " 

The  man's  manner  was  singularly  insolent  and  defiant, 
and  Edward  felt  his  temper  rise  as  he  answered — 

"  As  the  stronger  party,  sir,  "perhaps  you  will  inform  me 
what  your  intentions  are  in  this  lonely  spot,  so  far  from  hu- 
man habitation.  And  why,  in  answer  to  a  civil  question,  I 
am  told  such  an  outrageous  falsehood  ? "  He  pointed,  as 
he  spoke,  to  the  long  string  of  fish. 

Quincey,  who  seemed  to  be  laboring  under  intense  al- 
though suppressed  excitement,  disregarded  the  inquiry  and 
said — 

"  You  were  a  party,  sir,  to  a  scene,  a  pre-arranged 
scene,  I  make  no  doubt,  which  stripped  me  at  once  of 
rank  and  means  of  subsistence,  which  sent  me  from  the 
association  of  gentlemen,  of  those  among  whom  I  had  been 
born  and  bred,  to  keep  company  with  curs  like  these,"  he 
pointed  as  he  spoke,  to  the  two  habitats,  who  sat  in  stolid 
indifference  by  the  fire,  listening  to  a  conversation  of  which 
probably  they  did  not  understand  one  quarter. 

"  I  need  hardly  remind  a  person  who  possesses  such 
powers  of  observation,"  said  Edward  with  a  sneer,  "  of  the 
old  saw,  'He  who  plays  with  fire  will  get  burnt.'  " 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  resent,"  answered  Quincey,  with 


196  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

some  dignity  of  manner,  "  any  insult,  however  gross,  which 
Capt.  Mason  chooses  to  put  upon  me.  No  one  knows  better 
than  I  do  that  an  hour's  weakness,  folly,  call  it  what  you 
will,  has  raised  up  between  us  the  impassable  barrier  which 
always  exists  between  the  gentleman  and  the  outcast. 
Yet,"  he  added  bitterly,  "  your  friend,  who  found  it  conso- 
nant with  his  honor  to  denounce,  to  destroy,  the  poor 
wretch  who,  tempted  by  poverty,  yielded  to  the  lure  the 
fiend  always  has  ready,  found  that  sense  of  honor  no  bar- 
rier against  debauching  the  wife  of  the  man  whose  bread 
he  daily  ate." 

Edward  was  deeply  moved. 

"  As  you  well  know,  Captain  Quincey,  I  was  a  stranger, 
until  that  very  evening.  I  know  no  antecedent  facts. 
My  belief  is  founded  on  the  observation  of  the  hour. 
But  on  my  soul,  on  my  honor,  I  believe  there  exists  no 
relation  other  than  pure  friendship,  between  those  two 
parties." 

In  his  intense  interest  Edward  had  moved  a  step  for- 
ward, and  laid  his  hand  on  the  arm  of  the  other,  who 
recoiled  from  him  as  if  it  had  been  the  touch  of  an 
adder. 

"  You  are  green,  sir,  I  see,  in  this  world's  ways.  You 
know  but  little  of  the  class  to  which  your  friend  Harcourt 
belongs.  It  were  too  much  honor  to  the  daughter  of  his 
uncle's  dependant,  that  she  should  be  the  plaything  of  his 
passions." 

"  It  certainly  strikes  me,"  said  Edward,  collecting  him- 
self, "  that  this  interview,  in  mid-winter,  on  the  banks  of  the 
St.  Lawrence,  should  be  brought  to  a  close.  Your  wife's 
honor  is  in  your  keeping.  God  be  merciful  to  her.  Now 


THE   SPY.  197 

sir,  what  are  you  doing  in  this  lonely  place.  Mark  me,  sir, 
no  prevarication." 

"  And  who  made  Captain  Mason  a  judge  and  ruler  of 
my  actions,"  answered  the  man  with  a  sneer. 

"  Twenty  armed  men,  within  calling  distance." 

"  Ton  my  word,  you  have  the  best  of  the  argument," 
said  Quincey  with  a  laugh.  "  Go  back,  sir,  you  errand 
here  is  done.  "  Remember,  sir,  I  have  only  caught  one 
fish." 

As  he  spoke,  a  loud  whistle  sounded  from  the  boat,  and 
Edward  made  his  way  to  the  shore.  The  boat  was  touch- 
ing the  beach. 

"  Come  on  board,  quickly,"  said  Griswold.  "I  see  over 
those  headlands  the  top-sail  of  a  large  schooner.  Quick ! " 

"  One  second,"  exclaimed  Edward. 

He  sprang  back  as  he  uttered  the  word.  Quincey  was 
gone,  as  were  the  two  companions  who  were  with  him.  Ed- 
ward made  his  way  rapidly  to  the  boat,  which  pushed  off, 
the  men  stretching  themselves  with  a  will  to  the  oars, 
Their  progress  was  aided  by  the  lug-sail  which  Griswold  set 
as  soon  as  they  were  clear  of  the  islands,  but  night  had 
closed  in  before  the  security  of  Sackett's  Harbor  was 
reached.  Edward  was  soon  in  the  presence  of  the  Gen- 
eral, who  was  evidently  anxiously  expecting  him. 

"Well,  well,"  he  exclaimed,  as  Edward  entered  the 
room,  "  what  said  our  faithful  traitor." 

"Upon  my  honor,  General,  I  have  seen  no  one  nor 
heard  any  thing  except  what  came  from  a  convicted  cheat 
and  swindler,  a  Captain  Quincey,  whose  acquaintance  I 
made  in  Quebec,  while  a  prisoner." 

"  So,  so  you  know  Captain  Quincey,  do  you  ?  I  never 


SIBYL    SPENCER, 

dreamed  of  that.  Well,  what  did  he  say,  the  first  word, 
remember  now,  the  first  word." 

"  One." 

General  Brown  sprang  from  his  chair  and  opening  the 
door  which  communicated  with  an  adjoining  room,  said, 
"  Captain,  tell  the  officer  of  the  day  to  double  the  sentries, 
and  see  that  the  most  extreme  watchfulness  is  kept  during 
the  night.  Have  me  called  on  the  slightest  alarm.  The 
slightest,  do  you  understand?" 

The  answer  was  lost,  and  the  General  slowly  turning 
walked  backwards  and  forwards  up  and  down  the  room. 
This  was  the  first  intimation  that  Edward  had  that  the 
quandom  British  officer  was  a  spy  of  the  United  States. 
So  strong  was  his  astonishment  that  it  attracted  the  atten- 
tion of  the  General,  who  with  a  laugh,  said, 

"  You  certainly,  my  dear  boy,  did  not  expect  we  ob- 
tained our  information  from  the  respectable  subjects  of 
King  George,  did  you  ?  " 

"  No,  certainly  not.  But  my  acquaintance  with  this  man, 
and  all  the  strange  incidents  of  the  two  evenings  that  I  met 
him,  rushed  back  upon  me,  so  that  I  was  for  the  moment 
bewildered." 

"  See,"  said  the  general,  taking  from  a  drawer  in  the 
table  a  plan  of  the  defences  of  Sackett's  Harbor.  "  Our 
small  force  is  posted  here  and  here.  Should  any  thing 

happen  to  me,  the  command  devolves  on  Colonel ,  to 

whom  you  must  turn  it  over.  You  have  not  actually  en- 
tered upon  your  duties,  and  as  I  feel  no  inclination  for  bed, 
sit  down  by  the  fire  and  tell  me  what  you  know  of  this 
man's  history.  It  will  while  away  an  hour." 

Edward  narrated  the  scenes  of  that  evening.    The  gen- 


THE    SPY.  199 

eral  was  much  interested,  particularly  at  his  account  of 
Captain  Quincey's  unhappy  wife,  and  the  subsequent  con- 
fession of  attachment  by  Captain  Harcourt. 

"  Your  friend,"  he  said,  "  must  be  a  fine  fellow,  high- 
toned  and  honorable.  The  lady,  perhaps,  might  have  been 
happier  had  he  been  less  so.  Who  knows  ?  There  are 
some  facts,  however,  which  I  am  glad  to  learn.  This  man 
Quincey  has  been  playing,  as  all  spies  do,  a  double  part. 
He  gave  much  information  to  the  Eastern  division  last 
year,  long  before  his  card  cheating  was  found  out.  He 
came  about  a  month  ago  and  hired  a  little  house  just  out- 
side the  village.  I  will  have  it  examined  to-morrow,  at 
least  if  for  me  there  is  a  morrow." 

The  General  walked  to  the  window  and  opened  it,  look- 
ing up  at  the  stars  as  they  shone  out  clear  and  bright  in 
the  cold  winter's  sky.  "  Come  here,  Mason.  Look  up 
at  '  these  patines  of  pure  gold  '  and  tell  me  what  are  they. 
Made  solely  for  the  use  of  man,  fresh  from,  the  alchemy  of 
the  Creator,  and  set  there  for  his  benefit  and  pleasure  only  ? 
Or  are  they  other  worlds,  full  of  other  intelligences,  per- 
haps of  men,  with  passions,  hopes  and  fears  like  our- 
selves ? " 

"  Without  pretending  to  be  a  teacher,  General,  I  have 
always  doubted  if  the  Bible  told  us  more  than  a  fractional 
part  of  the  great  history  of  the  universe.  Has  it  not  rather 
only  lifted  the  veil  and  allowed  us  to  see,  as  it  were,  darkly, 
God's  dealings  with  a  portion  of  his  creatures  here  on 
earth  ? " 

The  General  closed  the  window  and  with  a  slight  shud- 
der drew  near  the  fire. 

"  Why,  Mason,  for  a  man  who  has  sat  at  the  feet  of  the 


2OO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Gamaliel  of  the  Congregationalists,  these  are  strange  doc- 
trines ;  almost  as  strange,"  he  added  with  a  smile,  "  as  to 
see  a  member  of  the  Society  of  Friends  in  this  garb  and 
commanding  an  army.  You  would  say  men's  beliefs,  my 
boy,  sit  but  lightly  on  the  majority  of  mankind,  and 
Quaker  or  no  Quaker,  my  strongest  wish  now  is  to  beat  a 
British  army.  Hark  !  what  was  that." 

As  he  spoke,  the  faint,  distant  report  of  a  gun  made 
itself  heard,  followed  by  the  loud  roll  of  several  drums  from 
different  quarters  of  the  town. 

General  Brown  calmly  drew  round  him  the  heavy  cloak 
which  lay  on  a  chair,  and  said  with  a  smile,  "  We  shall 
have  a  good  chance,  Edward,  to  solve  the  great  problem 
this  night.  Gentlemen,  our  posts  are  in  the  front,"  and 
followed  by  his  staff  he  left  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 

THE   CONFESSION. 

"  And  better  had  they  ne'er  been  born 
Who  read  to  doubt  or  read  to  scorn." 

SCOTT. 

HE  attack  on  Sackett's  Harbor  had  been  made 
under  cover  of  a  heavy  fog,  by  a  force  of  some 
six  hundred  English  regulars  and  Canadians, 
masked  and  concealed  by  a  cloud  of  savages. 
For  a  long  time  the  result  was  doubtful.  Several  times 
the  American  forces,  consisting  mostly  of  militia,  had  been 
driven  from  their  defences.  Once  a  panic  had  seized  them 
which,  but  for  the  all-prevailing  presence  and  genius  of 
General  Brown,  would  have  proved  fatal.  As  it  was,  the 
English  burnt  a  sloop  of  war,  nearly  completed,  and  de- 
stroyed large  quantities  of  military  stores.  Stubbornly 
holding  the  position  with  the  few  regular  troops  at  his  com- 
mand, General  Brown  gathered  round  him  by  slow  degrees, 
the  scattered  fragments  of  his  command  and  step  by  step 
forced  the  British  commander  back  to  his  boats. 

The  loss  of  life,  in  proportion  to  the  number  of  soldiers 
engaged,  was  enormous  ;  and  when,  late  in  the  morning,  the 
tired  and  worn-out  troops  were  able  to  attend  to  the 
wounded,  it  was  found  the  fruits  of  victory  were  with 
neither  party. 

(201) 


2O2  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

This  had  been  the  first  serious  affair  in  which  Edward 
Mason  had  been  engaged.  General  Brown  was  always 
chary  of  praise,  but  he  expressed  himself  as  more  than 
pleased  with  the  coolness  and  bravery  of  his  young  aid. 

The  press  of  business  for  the  next  few  days  engrossed 
every  moment  and  thought,  and  Edward  forgot,  until  it 
was  recalled  to  him  by  an  accident,  that  the  spy  Quincey 
had  a  house  on  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Edward  was 
sent  one  evening  by  the  General  to  examine  the  con- 
dition of  some  wounded  prisoners  whom  the  imperfect 
hospital  accommodations  had  compelled  the  authorities  to 
quarter  in  the  houses  of  the  citizens.  It  was  a  Sunday, 
and  as  Edward  was  slowly  walking  by  a  little  "meeting 
house,"  his  attention  was  called  to  the  soft,  low  hymn, 
which  was  being  sung.  He  had  forgotten  the  day.  There 
is  no  Sunday  in  the  army.  Unconsciously  to  himself  he 
drew  closer  to  the  door,  listened,  and  finally  opened  it  and 
entered.  There  were  very  few  persons  in  the  room,  and 
the  majority  of  them  were  women.  Their  sad  faces  showed 
it  might  well  be  called  the  "  house  of  prayer."  The 
minister,  a  very  young  man,  spoke  feelingly  of  the  bitter 
sorrow  and  desolation  which  the  passions  of  men  had 
brought  on  the  little  quiet  village.  His  remarks  did  not 
occupy  more  than  a  minute  or  two,  and  after  a  brief  but 
heartfelt  prayer,  his  congregation  was  dismissed.  As  Ed- 
ward passed  from  the  building  he  found  himself  brought  in 
contact  with  a  woman  dressed  in  deep  black  and  covered 
from  head  to  foot  with  a  heavy  veil.  He  was  passing  on 
after  a  careless  glance,  when  she  touched  his  arm,  and  in- 
dicated a  desire  to  speak  with  him.  Following  her  to 
one  side,  under  the  light  of  a  small  oil  lamp  which  feebly  lit 


THE    CONFESSION.  203 

up  the  darkness  of  the  chapel,  she  raised  her  veil,  and  it 
was  with  a  start  he  recognized  Mrs.  Quincey.  Her  eyes 
were  red  with  weeping,  and  her  cheeks  deadly  pale.  The 
sad,  almost  fearful,  glance  she  threw  on  Mason  touched  his 
heart.  It  was  with  deep  feeling  he  extended  his  hand. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Quincey,  what  can  I  do  for  you  ?  " 

The  poor  woman  broke  down  at  once.  "  I  am  alone 
here,  Mr.  Mason,  captain,  I  should  have  said.  Alone,  with 
not  a  friend.  Stop,  I  do  not  want  your  charity.  Of  money 
I  have  more  than  enough.  But  I  want  some  one  person, 
to  whom  I  can  speak,  who  can  feel  for,  pity,  and  protect 
me." 

He  was  about  speaking  when  she  motioned  him  to  be 
silent. 

"  I  had  to  pour  out  my  heart  to  God.  I  have  no 
friend  save  Him.  Weak,  sinful  as  I  am,  surely,  surely  He 
will  not  turn  his  face  from  me.  If  you  have  a  few  minutes  of 
leisure  will  you  come  and  see  me.  I  must  have  some  one 
to  talk  to.  Not  secretly,  although  I  am  under  a  feigned 
name.  You  know  where  my  house  is.  Close  by  the 
brook.  Ask  for  Mrs.  Stillwell.  Pardon  my  having  de- 
tained you."  She  drew  the  veil  over  her  face  and  passed 
out  into  the  deserted  street. 

When  Edward  reached  head-quarters  he  took  the  first 
opportunity  of  narrating  the  incident  to  General  Brown. 

"  Take  care,  my  boy,"  said  the  General  laughing.  "  Pity 
is  a  dangerous  sentiment  between  two  people  of  the  op- 
posite sex  not  twenty-six  years  old.  Go  see  her  as  much 
as  you  choose,  but  remember,  there  are  spies  on  the  Eng- 
lish side  as  well  as  on  ours.  This  man's  life,  her  husband 


2O4  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

you  say  he  is,  hangs  on  a  hair.  Do  not  be  the  means  of 
bringing  him  to  justice." 

Some  few  moments  afterwards,  as  Edward  was  about 
leaving  the  office,  the  General  called  him  back.  "  Mason, 
Arthur  Hamilton  told  me  you  were  engaged  to  marry  a 
charming  girl  in  your  native  town.  Was  he  right  ?  " 

"  I  am  happy  to  say,  General,  he  was." 

"  So.  From  something  the  old  fellow  let  drop,  I 
thought  he  rather  envied  you  the  lady :  am  I  correct  ? 
There,  there,  don't  scowl.  You  do  not  know  Hamilton. 
There  is  a  great  big  nobleness  about  that  man  which  pre- 
cludes jealousy.  I  have  watched  you  closely,  my  boy,  and 
have  seen  at  the  mention  of  his  name  a  flash  I  did  not 
like.  The  biggest  hearts,  Edward,  are  those  which  have 
the  fewest  small  feelings.  Good-night." 

Mason  took  the  first  opportunity  to  pay  his  visit  to  Mrs. 
Quincey.  She  kept  him  waiting  but  a  few  moments.  She 
was  dressed  in  black,  and  her  dark  hair,  drawn  back  from 
her  face,  showed  its  clear  classic  beauty  to  advantage. 
Mrs.  Quincey  made  no  effort  to  shake  hands  with  her 
visitor,  but  motioning  him  to  a  chair,  began  the  conversa- 
tion abruptly. 

"  Few  women  in  my  situation,  Captain  Mason,  but 
would  have  shrunk  from  again  meeting  the  witness  of  their 
shame.  But  I  am  denied  the  luxury  of  retirement,  I  had 
almost  said  of  every  womanly  feeling." 

"  Pray,  my  dear  Mrs.  Quincey,  do  not  judge  so  harsh- 
ly. 1  was,  as  you  know,  involuntarily  a  witness  of  that 
painful  scene.  But,  on  my  honor  as  a  man,  I  hold  you 
guiltless  of  the  crime  imputed.  Captain — " 

"  Stop !  do  not  name  him  here,"  said  the  other.     "  I 


THE    CONFESSION.  2O5 

have  sought  this  interview  to  obtain  the  means  of  escape 
from  him.  I  must  place  the  impassable  barrier  of  con 
tending  nations  between  us.  For  well  does  my  woman's 
heart  tell  me,  if  we  meet  again,  I  am  ruined  and  he  is  un- 
done." 

The  wretched  woman  covered  her  face  with  her  hands 
and  sobbed  audibly. 

"  I  am  placed  in  the  most  embarrassing  situation,"  said 
Edward,  walking  up  and  down  the  room.  "  I  have  met 
your  husband  once  since  that  evening.  That  is  to  say,  I 
saw  him.  We  met  under  circumstances — in  short — what 
shall  I  call  him  ?  " 

"  Do  not  hesitate,"  said  Mrs.  Quincey.  "  Add  to 
gambler,  blackleg,  traitor,  the  one  word  spy,  and  fill  up 
the  measure  of  his  ignominy.  Captain  Mason,  on  your 
honor  as  a  soldier — no,  by  a  stronger  title,  as  a  man,  I 
throw  myself  on  your  pity.  Find  me  a  refuge.  You  hesi- 
tate. Can  it  be  ?  Does  your  nation  war  on  women  ? 
You  shake  your  head.  Then  you  believe  me  the  vile  thing 
that  man  called  me." 

"  No,  no,"  exclaimed  Mason,  passionately. 

Mrs.  Quincey  did  not  seem  to  hear  him,  she  had  walked 
to  the  window  and  was  resting  her  face  against  the  glass. 
Suddenly  she  turned. 

"  Mr.  Mason,  hear  my  story."  There  was  a  dignity,  a 
pathos  in  her  manner  which  carried  conviction  with  it.  "  I 
am  the  daughter  of  an  English  clergyman.  From  my  child- 
hood I  was  the  playmate  of  Captain  Harcourt.  I  never 
knew  the  time  when  I  did  not  love  him.  He  was  then  a 
younger  son,  and  as  such,  it  mattered  little  whom  he 
loved  or  whom  he  married.  The  death  of  his  brother 


2O6  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

made  him  the  heir  of  one  of  the  proudest  titles  in  Eng- 
land. Then  from  that  moment,  to  love  the  poor  portion- 
less clergyman's  daughter  became  a  crime.  We  parted  ; 
when  I  again  heard  of  him  he  was  in  Spain.  I  will  not 
weary  you  by  narrating  what  arts,  what  force  even  were 
used  to  make  me  accept  the  hand  of  Mr.  Quincey.  I  be- 
lieve he  loved  me.  But  what  he  sought  was  my  dower, 
the  price  he  was  to  receive  for  my  bought  hand.  A  cap- 
tain's commission  and  a  sum  in  ready  money,  which  was 
the  only  means  he  had  of  rescuing  himself  then  from  dis- 
honor. Mr.  Mason,  you  will  never  know  the  great  gulf 
which  divides  the  noble  from  the  commoner  in  England. 
Trained  from  infancy  to  subserviency,  they  kiss  the  foot 
which  treads  on  their  necks.  To  have  pleased  that 
haughty  old  man,  my  father  would  have  sold  his  soul. 
What  was  a  daughter's  happiness  ?  " 

She  trembled  so  violently  that  Edward  took  her  hand 
and  gently,  led_her  to  a  seat. 

"*  "  Pray  -be  -scalm,  my  dear  madam;  why  so   unneces- 
sarily grieve  yourself  by  entering  into  these  details  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  unnecessary,  Mr.  Mason  ;  you  must 
find  me  a  refuge  or  I  must  seek  one  for  myself  in  the 
grave.  And  you  must  understand  the  character  of  the 
woman  who  asks  this  favor  of  you.  For  years  we  have 
wandered  from  one  military  station  to  another,  living  as 
adventurers  live.  Shunned,  yet  courted.  Pray  to  God, 
Mr.  Mason,  no  sister  of  yours  is  made  to  play  the  part  of 
a  decoy.  Dressing  herself  at  one  time  in  meretricious 
taste  to  lure  some  sated  voluptuary,  or  to  bewilder  the 
fancy  of  some  half-grown  boy.  You  ask  me  how  I  en- 
dured all  this  ?  I  had  a  child.  Oh,  the  agony  and  shame 


THE    CONFESSION.  2O/ 

with  which  I  have  leaned  over  that  cradle  !  While  she 
lived,  I  bore  every  thing.  No  man  can  fathom  the  depth, 
the  fulness  of  a  mother's  love.  To  keep  that  child  what 
have  I  not  suffered  !  If  I  hesitated,  if  for  one  moment  I 
even  dared  to  look  disobedience — there  was  my  child. 
The  laws,  the  boasted  laws  of  England,  give  to  a  father, 
not  a  mother,  the  care  of  a  helpless  infant.  Blows,  in- 
sults, revilings,  all  were  as  nothing,  so  I  kept  that  child. 
You  start.  To  you  a  woman  is  sacred.  Ha,  ha !  I  have 
been  beaten  '  with  many  stripes.'  " 

"  In  the  name  of  Heaven  !  "  cried  Edward,  "why  did 
you  not  appeal  to  your  friends  ?  Put  yourself  under  the 
protection  of  your  family  ?  " 

"  My  family,  my  friends,  I  had  none.  As  long  as  my 
child  lived  it  was  nothing.  But  when  she  died — " 

There  was  a  pause — at  last  she  looked  up. 

"  We  were  in  Malta.  Captain  Quincey  had  changed 
from  one  regiment  to  another,  until  it  were  weariness  to 
follow  us.  How  well  I  remember  that  night.  We  were 
quartered  in  the  town.  The  soft  southern  moon  shone 
down  on  the  almost  waveless  sea ;  my  husband  had  a  card 
party.  He  was  deeply  in  debt,  and  from  this  party  he 
hoped  to  win  enough  to  rescue  him.  I  hate  him,  I  loathe 
him."  The  expression  of  her  face  became  almost  fiend- 
ish. She  added — • 

"  Let  me  do  him  justice.  He  loved  his  child.  I  held 
the  poor  little  wasted  thing  in  my  arms.  Each  breath 
threatened  to  be  the  last.  He  came  in,  I  can  remember 
the  very  tones  of  his  voice.  Oh,  my  God  !  had  he  taken 
me  at  that  moment  in  his  arms,  I  could  have  forgiven  all, 
I  could  have  loved  him.  Accident  brought  us  to  Quebec, 


2O8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  there  I  met  Harcourt.  As  I  hope  for  mercy,  I  have 
never  met  him  alone.  But  oh,  how  the  old  feelings  rushed 
back  on  me  !  Human  love  is  not  the  growth  of  human 
will.  Save  me,  Captain  Mason,  save  me  from  myself !  " 

"  I  will  do  every  thing  in  my  power,  my  dear  lady," 
answered  Edward  ;  "but  to  do  so,  I  must  ask  some  ques- 
tions. What  are  your  means  of  support  ?  Are  you  obliged 
to  labor  for  your  own  livelihood  ?  " 

"  I  have  a  little  money,  Captain  Mason,  sufficient,  with 
economy,  to  support  me  for  a  short  time.  But  I  must  find 
something  to  do.  I  am  well  educated,  I  am  a  thorough 
musician.  I  will  do  any  thing,  be  any  thing,  which  is  hon- 
orable. But  it  must  be  in  some  place  of  which  my  hus- 
band knows  nothing.  Somewhere  where  I  shall  be  for- 
gotten." And  she  added,  as  her  hands  fell  into  her  lap, 
and  her  head  sank  forward,  "  where  I  shall  forget." 

"  Mrs.  Quincey,  there  is  one  place,  my  old  home  in 
Connecticut,  in  which  I  feel  sure  I  can  promise  you  safety 
and  protection.  It  is  a  quiet  little  country  village,  but  to 
me  a  very  dear  one,  as  it  contains  the  woman  I  love  and 
am  to  marry." 

"  You  do  trust  me,  then,"  she  said,  interrupting  him, 
taking  one  of  his  hands  in  both  hers  and  before  he  could 
prevent  it,  raising  it  to  her  lips.  "You  do  believe  me 
when  I  say  I  am  pure  ?  You  do  not  think  me  the  vile 
thing  that  fiend  called  me  ?  " 

"  On  my  soul,  I  do  not,"  said  Edward.  "  It  will  take 
some  time  to  have  an  answer  to  a  letter,  at  this  season. 
And  now,  where  is  your  husband  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know.  He  came  the  night  of  that  fearful 
combat.  Staid  with  me  all  the  next  day  and  then  without 


THE    CONFESSION.  2OQ 

a  word  disappeared.  He  may  return  at  any  moment." 
She  shuddered  as  she  uttered  these  last  words,  and  glanced 
timidly  round  as  if  she  expected  to  see  him  walk  into  the 
room. 

"  I  am  myself,  as  you  well  know,  a  close  prisoner  by  my 
duties,  Mrs.  Quincey,  and  I  dread  your  taking  this  long 
journey  alone  at  this  season." 

"  Oh,  do  not  mind  me  for  a  moment.  I  am  strong,  and 
to  be  in  safety,  I  would  march  up  to  one  of  your  bat- 
teries." 

"How  do  you  live  here?"  asked  Mason,  "have  you  a 
safeguard  ?  I  will  speak  to  the  General." 

"  Mr.  Quincey  gave  me  a  paper,  the  day  he  first 
brought  me  here.  I  have  never  looked  at  it,  but  he  said 
it  was  something  of  that  sort.  I  will  get  it."  She  rose  as 
she  said  this,  but  Mason  detained  her. 

"  It  is  a  matter  of  no  consequence.  I  will  see  to  your 
safety.  But,  Mrs.  Quincey,  we  must  meet  very  seldom. 
This  town  is  full  of  English  spies,  speaking  the  same 
language,  it  is  impossible  to  prevent  it.  Although  I 
despise  your  husband,  I  would  not  willingly  doom  him  to 
death." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  not  his  blood,"  said  the  woman  clasping 
her  hands  ;  "  I  would  not  have  on  my  head  the  blood  of  the 
father  of  my  child."  Edward  rose,  and  as  he  moved  to- 
wards the  door,  he  said : 

"  Sleep  quietly,  Mrs.  Quincey,  I  will  make  every  prepar- 
ation for  your  departure.  Ere  many  days  you  shall  have 
put  the  '  barrier  of  contending  nations,'  as  you  poetically 
expressed  it,  between  you  and  danger."  He  smiled  as  he 
spoke.  She  had  risen,  and  holding  out  both  hands,  said, 

14 


2IO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

a  smile  for  the  first  time  dimpling  her  cheeks,  and  making 
her  look  radiantly  beautiful — 

"  God  bless  you  !  Captain  Mason.     And  He  will  bless 
you.    You  have  saved  a  soul ! " 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


WAVERING. 

"  Time  was 

I  had  been  prone  to  counsel  such  as  yours ; 
Adventurous  I  have  been,  it  is  true, 
And  this  foolhardy  heart  would  brave — nay  court, 
In  other  days  an  enterprise  of  passion." 

VAN  ARTEVELDE. 

HERE  was  in  Lucy  Quincey's  very  attitude,  as  she 
sat  by  the  window  of  the  little  parlor,  a  degree 
of  languor  which,  to  a  close  observer,  would 
have  told  the  irresolution  of  her  character. 
Bright,  gay  and  sparkling  in  manner,  she  was  the  very  child 
of  pleasure.  All  her  earlier  life  had  been  spent  in  the  soft 
retirement  of  an  English  home.  Petted  and  spoiled,  she 
grew  up  unacquainted  with  any  of  the  ruder  scenes  of 
life,  which  strengthen  while  they  pain.  She  had  yielded  to 
the  pressure  of  her  family,  as  she  had  told  Mason  in  the 
brief  story  of  her  life,  and  accepted  as  her  husband  a  man 
whom  she  neither  loved  nor  respected.  In  her  heart 
she  always  remained  true  to  her  earlier  love,  the  love  of 
her  life.  Separated  by  her  husband's  vices  from  the 

(211) 


212  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

society  of  those  of  her  sex  whom  she  could  respect,  she 
had  been  thrown  back  as  it  were  upon  herself,  until,  weary 
and  broken-spirited,  she  longed  for  rest,  even  if  it  were 
the  rest  of  the  grave.  As  she  sat  by  the  window  in  the 
fading  light  of  that  February  day,  the  work  which  had 
been  the  excuse  falling  unheeded  in  her  lap,  her  eyes 
dreamily  fixed  on  the  western  sky,  her  fancy  brought 
back  her  far  away  distant  home.  The  soft  green  meadow 
gently  sloping  to  the  little  brook ;  the  quaint  old  church 
with  its  ivy-covered  porch ;  the  old  rectory,  round  which 
the  cawing  rooks  held  holiday ;  the  old  yew-tree,  the 
childish  trysting-place  of  a  love  which  had  never  died — 
all  changed,  all  gone,  alone  in  a  foreign  land.  No  heart 
to  love  her,  no  hand  stretched  forth  to  aid  her  weak, 
wandering  steps.  She  who  had  never  been  able  to  form 
the  simplest  resolution  unaided,  was  it  to  be  wondered 
at  if  the  lip  quivered,  the  eye  grew  moist,  the  cheek  paled, 
until  at  length  "  tears  dispelled  the  dream  !  " 

There  was  a  bold,  resolute  step  in  the  passage  way,  the 
lock  on  the  door  turned,  and  with  a  quivering  start  the  girl 
— for  she  was  yet  but  a  child  in  character — awoke.  Could 
it  be  her  husband.  She  trembled  at  the  thought.  She 
hardly  dared  to  glance  at  the  form  which  stood  there, 
dimly  shadowed  in  the  twilight.  Who  could  it  be — some 
phantom  of  the  past,  which  memory  had  evoked  !  Her 
very  heart  for  the  moment  stood  still.  Then  how  the 
blood  rushed  tumultuously,  through  every  throbbing  vein, 
at  the  one  word — 

"  Lucy !  " 

The  man  whom  she  most  dreaded,  and  yet  most  longed 
to  see — to  escape  the  bare  accident  of  whose  presence 


WAVERING.  213 

she  was  preparing  to  fly,  she  knew  not,  cared  not  whither, 
stood  before  her.  His  name  broke  involuntarily  from  her 
lips,  as  holding  out  both  hands  she  said  : 

"  Charles  !  "  She  caught  back  her  hands  instantly.  "  Oh 
why — why  are  you  here,  here  and  in  disguise  ? " 

Harcourt,  for  it  was  he,  looked  at  her  for  a  moment  as 
if  stupefied.  He  had  possessed  himself  of  the  hands  she 
had  held  out,  and  there  was  more  of  temper  than  of  love 
for  the  moment  in  the  tone  with  which  he  said  : 

"After  the  letter  you  wrote,  I  should  hardly  have 
expected  you  vyould  have  asked  me  this  question." 

"Letter — what  letter!  I  never  wrote  you  any." 

Poor  Lucy's  hands  had  grown  cold  as  she  spoke,  and 
she  trembled  so  she  could  hardly  move. 

"  There  must  be  some  fearful  mistake  here,"  she  went 
on  to  say  ;  "  how  and  when  did  you  get  any  letter  ?  answer 
me,  for  God's  sake !  or  I  shall  go  mad." 

"  Nothing  more  simple,"  said  Harcourt,  drawing  from 
his  pocket  a  letter,  which  he  extended  to  her.  "  A  French 
*  habitat '  brought  that  to  me  at  Montreal,  where  we  are 
now  stationed.  He  said  you  gave  him  ten  guineas  to  place 
it  in  my  hands." 

The  woman  looked  at  it  with  bursting  eyes. 

"  I — I  never  wrote  it,  I  never  saw  it  before — what  does 
it  mean  !  " 

Harcourt  walked  towards  the  fire,  a  cold  stern  expression 
grew  over  his  face  as  he  turned  his  back  to  the  blaze,  and 
said  slowly — 

"  Then  I  am  not  expected,  nor,  as  it  appears,  welcome. 
That  letter  appoints  this  day,  this  very  hour — calls  upon 
me  by  the  memory  of  former  days — by  my  early  love,  by 


214  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

our  childish  faith  and  trust,  to  meet  you  and  to  rescue 
you.  Lucy,  I  am  here." 

Mrs.  Quincey  had  struggled  to  her  feet,  she  was  as 
weak  and  tottering  as  an  infant.  She  feebly  attempted  to 
light  a  candle.  Harcourt  took  it  from  her  hands  and  lit  it. 
Not  a  muscle  moved.  There  was  no  quivering  of  the  nerves 
there — he  was  calm,  and  cold,  and  still.  She  held  the  letter 
to  the  light;  her  hand  shook  so  that  she  could  not  read  it. 
It  was  several  moments  before  she  could  recover  her  com- 
posure sufficiently  to  take  in  the  meaning  of  the  words. 

"  This  is  not  my  handwriting — it  is  a  forgery.  It  is  my 
husband's."  The  paper  fell  from  her  hands,  and  the  two 
looked  blankly  into  each  other's  faces.  At  length  she 
said  : 

"  Fly  !    fly  at  once.     In  mercy  to  me,  save  yourself." 

"  Not  without  you,  Lucy,"  he  said  slowly,  again  taking 
the  hands  she  helplessly  held  out.  "  If  by  that  scoundrel's 
actions  I  have  been  brought  here,  you  shall  no  longer  be 
left  in  his  power.  If  safety  can  be  found,  you  shall  share  it." 

"  Think  not  of  me,"  she  answered  ;  "  I  have  found  an 
asylum  far,  far  away.  In  a  few  short  days  I  shall  be 
safe,  where  he  can  never  find  me,  and  where  I  shall  be 
alone.  Alone,  if  the  broken-hearted  can  ever  be  alone 
while  memory  holds." 

"  Lucy  " — his  voice  grew  very  soft  as  he  spoke,  and  he 
drew  her  closely  to  him — "  Lucy,  there  is  no  one  in  the 
whole  world,  dear  child,  to  whom  you  can  cling  except  to  me. 
You  will  have  neither  part  nor  heritage  with  strangers. 
From  our  childish  days  we  have  been  all  in  all  to  each 
other.  I  can  make  you  safe.  I  can  place  you  where  no 
harm  can  touch  you.  Come,  Lucy,  come  with  me." 


WAVERING.  215 

The  poor  woman  raised  her  eyes,  heavy  with  tears,  to 
his.  She  drew  closer  to  him, — she  clasped  the  hands  which 
held  hers. 

"  Charles,  don't  you  know — has  not  your  heart  told  you 
— that  what  I  fly  from  is  you.  Yes,  from  you.  I  bore  it  all 
Charles — the  insult,  the  neglect,  the  very  blows.  I  could 
have  borne  it  always,  had  my  child  lived.  But  when  you 
came — when  you  brought  back  to  me  the  past ;  when  I  felt 
what  might  have  been,  but  oh,  God  !  could  never  be — " 

"  But,  Lucy,"  he  broke  in,  passing  his  arm  round  her, 
"  what  makes  you  say  such  words.  Have  I  ever  done 
any  thing  which  merited  such  a  reproach  ?  Have  my 
manners,  my  language,  my  actions,  been  any  thing  but  what 
they  should  have  been,  to  the  pet,  the  plaything,  the  love 
of  my  youth,  now  the  wife  of  another?  " 

"  It  was  that  very  soft,  gentle  kindness,  dear,"  she  an- 
swered, endeavoring,  but  in  effectually,  to  draw  herself  away 
from  his  arms,  "  which  made  me  fear.  I  could  feel  your  hand 
tremble  when  it  touched  mine.  I  could  see  you  watching  me 
when  you  thought  I  did  not  see.  I  know  my  own  weakness." 

"  Darling,  my  own  pet,  my  love !  "  his  voice  seemed 
strange  to  him,  as  he  interrupted  her.  He  bent  his  head 
until  his  lips  almost  touched  her  ear — "  What  right  has 
this  man  over  your  life  ?  He  has  outraged  every  feeling  of 
your  nature ;  he  has  torn  you  from  friends  and  country ; 
he  has  linked  with  his  own  criminal  nature — " 

"  Hush  !  in  mercy  hush,"  she  said. 

"  I  will  not  hush  !  "  he  exclaimed  with  a  burst  of  passion, 
which  swept  away  every  artificial  barrier.  "  In  the  sight  of 
God  this  man  is  not  your  husband.  You  are  mine — you 
belong  to  me.  If  a  vow  forced  from  you  by  lies,  and  terror 


2l6  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  fraud,  counts  for  any  thing,  what  are  the  hundreds  you 
made  me,  freely  in  the  sight  of  that  very  God  and  his 
recording  angels." 

"  You  are  mad,"  she  said,  bursting  from  him — "  mad, 
and  I  was  right  to  fly  from  you  as  from  the  plague.  Hear 
me." 

"  I  will  not  hear  you,"  Harcourt  said,  advancing  towards 
her  as  she  drew  back  at  his  approach — "  cold  reason  shall 
not  find  utterance  when  only  the  heart  should  speak.  I 
ask  you  again  what  is  this  man  to  you  that  you  fly  from  him 
and  yet  shun  me." 

"  He  is  my  husband,"  Lucy  said  very  slowly.  "  Charles, 
you  must  hear  me,  I  beg,  I  implore  you.  Even  in  my  igno- 
rance I  know,  that  found  within  these  military  lines,  in 
that  dress,  at  this  time,  an  ignominimous  death  is  certain. 
As  yet,  you  are  unknown,  unseen,  undiscovered.  Fly,  fly 
and  forget  poor  Lucy  Quincey." 

"  I  will  not  go,"  he  said  slowly  and  distinctly,  "  with- 
out you.  You  need  not  beg  nor  implore.  I  will  not  die  a 
felon's  death,  but  I  will  die  by  my  own  hand,  rather  than 
endure  the  long  agony  of  knowing  that  you  belong  to 
another.  This  is  no  idle  threat,  Lucy,  made  by  a  love-sick 
school-boy.  In  some  way  or  another  I  have  been  brought 
here — I  seek  not  to  discover  how.  God's  finger  is  in  it, 
my  fate  is  in  your  hands.  Come  with  me  or — " 

She  did  not  wait  for  him  to  conclude  the  sentence.  She 
took  her  hands  from  before  her  face.  Her  manner  and 
air  showed  more  of  resolution  than  it  had  ever  shown 
before. 

"  Charles,  my  whole  heart  is  yours.  I  do  not  doubt 
your  love  now,  more  than  I  doubt  my  own.  You  shall  your- 


WAVERING.  2  I  7 

self  decide  my  fate — our  fate.  Through  these  long,  bitter 
years,  the  wife — my  tongue  blisters  to  say  it — the  partici- 
pator, I  had  almost  said  the  accomplice,  of  a  cheat  and 
sharper,  surrounded  by  women  to  whom  the  very  name  of 
virtue  was  unknown,  I  preserved  mine.  Will  you  not  shun, 
will  you  not  despise,  can  you  love  the  woman  who  gives 
you  all.  If  you  can,  oh  read  well  your  heart,  take  her,  for  I 
can  resist  no  longer." 

Harcourt  sprang  forward  to  grasp  the  hands  she  held 
out,  when  a  slight  rustle  in  the  room  made  them  both  start 
and  turn. 

Slowly  divesting  himself  of  his  coverings  and  throwing 
them  on  the  table,  the  spy  Quincey,  her  husband,  stood 
before  them. 

"  When  I  was  a  liveried  servant  of  King  George,  I 
thought  it  too  much  honor  to  have  my  humble  home  visited 
by  the  Hon.  Charles  Harcourt ;  and  now  that  I  am  an  out- 
cast and  a  fugitive,  a  spy — oh,  how  the  noble  gentleman  must 
feel  his  very  flesh  creep  at  being  in  the  same  room  with  a 
spy, — how  can  I  find  words  to  express  the  feelings  of  my 
heart !  " 

Harcourt,  dauntless  as  he  was,  felt  his  heart  stand  still 
at  the  sneering  malignity  with  which  these  words  were 
uttered.  Lucy,  trembling  in  every  limb,  without  the  power 
of  utterance,  sank  powerless  into  a  chair.  Manning  him- 
self by  a  desperate  effort,  Harcourt  faced  the  man.  An 
observer,  ignorant  of  the  preceding  scene,  would  hardly  have 
known  that  any  thing  exciting  had  taken  place,  so  calm 
and  passionless  became  his  manner.  True  to  man's  in- 
stincts, with  the  danger  came  the  courage. 

"  If  I  am  here,"  Harcourt  said  slowly  and  with  the 


2l8  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

slight  drawl  which  was  with  him  almost  second  nature, 
"  you  have  nobody  to  thank  for  it  but  yourself.  That 
letter  there  is  your  handiwork,  and  I  am  at  your  mercy." 

"  My  handiwork,"  said  the  other  with  a  sneering  laugh. 
"  I  only  baited  the  hook,  and  the  simple  gudgeon  swallowed 
the  bait,  hook  and  all." 

"  Mr.  Quincey,  between  us  as  men,  there  is  no  excuse 
which  can  pass  current.  I  weighed  the  risk  before  I  took 
the  step.  That  woman  there,  your  wife,  was  from  childhood 
my  idol.  She  was  pledged  to  me.  You  have  neglected, 
you  have  outraged,  you  have  beaten,  that  wretched  creature 
whom  you  never  loved." 

"  You  lie  !  "  thundered  rather  than  spoke  Quincey. 
"  From  the  first  moment  I  saw  her  I  loved  her  with  as 
mad  a  love  as  yours.  I  was  poor,  necessitous,  but  all 
your  uncle's  boasted  wealth  would  not  have  tempted  me 
to  do  what  I  did,  had  I  not  loved  her.  I  thought,  what 
heart  does  not  think,  but  that  patient  love  would  win  love 
in  return." 

Harcourt  burst  into  a  sneering  laugh  as  he  said : 
"  You  showed  your  love.  A  man  usually  crushes  in  his 
grasp  the  fragile  vase  he  values." 

The  man  did  not  hear  him.  In  his  excitement  he 
almost  foamed  at  the  mouth.  He  tore  open  his  cravat  and 
actually  gasped  for  air. 

"  Love  her !  I  would  have  sold  my  soul  for  a  smile.  I 
had  not  been  married  an  hour,  before  I  found  she  loathed 
me.  She  talked  and  muttered  in  her  sleep,  and  always 
your  name.  She  would  stretch  out  her  arms,  as  if  to  clasp 
you  to  her,  and  I  did  not  stab  her.  If  my  hand  but 
touched  her,  she  shrank  from  me,  as  if  I  were  a  leper.  In 


WAVERING.  2  1 9 

my  mad  endeavor  to  win  her  heart,  I  squandered  the  gold 
I  had  received  in  surrounding  her  with  a  luxury  which  was 
not  mine  to  give.  All.  all  was  vain — she  loved  only  you. 
Step  by  step  I  sank  until  in  a  mad  hour  I  cheated  at  cards. 
You — you,  the  favored  lover — you,  the  man  I  hate,  who  has 
thwarted  me  at  every  turn ;  who  disgraced  me  before  that 
Yankee  officer  and  my  own  wife,  you  stand  here  now  in 
my  power.  Ha !  Ha  !  "  and  the  wretched  creature  laughed 
as  does  some  maniac. 

Lucy  Quincey  had  sat  like  one  frozen  in  her  seat.  She 
had  heard  the  loud  voice,  she  saw  the  savage,  the  distorted 
features  of  her  husband  as  he  poured  out  the  story  of 
his  woes  and  his  strange  love.  She  had  but  one  thought, 
one  idea.  Harcourt  was  in  danger.  He  must  be  saved. 
Feebly  she  dragged  herself  forward  until  she  reached  her 
husband's  feet  and  sought  to  clasp  his  knees. 

"  Pity,  mercy,"  she  said  feebly,  as  a  child  would  speak. 
"  Let  him  go.  I  will  be  your  slave,  your  bond-woman.  I 
will  love  you  if  you  will  only  let  him  go." 

Quincey  seized  her  hands  and  forced  her  rudely  back. 

"  Let  him  go  !  Outside  this  house  there  stands  a  guard. 
I  have  denounced  him  to  this  General  Brown.  To  this 
smiling  Quaker,  who  thinks  no  more  of  blood  than  does  a 
tiger.  I  have  but  to  raise  this  hand,  and  to-morrow  morn- 
ing there — outside  this  town — there  stands  a  gibbet." 

"  Oh  no  !  you  cannot,  you  will  not,"  cried  the  wretched 
woman,  dragging  herself  loose,  only  to  again  clasp  him 
round  the  knees.  "  He  has  done  you  no  harm.  I  de- 
ceived him,  I  betrayed  him.  I  was  pledged  to  him  when  I 
married  you.  Let  him  go,  and  kill  me  if  you  will." 

"  I  stood,"  said  Quincey,  his  voice  becoming  very  low 


22O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

and  still,  "  outside  that  door  since  first  he  entered  this 
room.  I  heard  him  beg  you  to  fly  with  him.  I  heard  him 
say  that  you  were  his  in  the  sight  of  God.  I  saw  your  faint 
resistance,  which  lasted  for  a  moment.  You  placed  your 
fate  in  his  hands,  and  he  took  you  to  his  heart.  Did  he 
have  mercy  on  me  ? " 

Harcourt  made  a  step  forward  and  was  about  to  speak, 
when  Quincey  raised  his  hand, 

"  Now  listen.  I  am  the  outcast,  he  the  gentleman.  You 
placed  your  fate  in  his  hands,  I  do  the  same.  Let  him  tell 
to  that  same  Yankee  officer,  he  who  now  commands  this 
party,  that  he  came  here  to  make  you  his  mistress  and  you 
consented.  Let  him  tell  it,  I  say,  before  you,  and  by  the 
God  of  Heaven  he  goes  free  !  Speak ;  her  fate  is  in  your 
hands.  You  sought  to  make  her  a  harlot:  proclaim  her  so 
before  the  world." 

"  Wretch !  brutal  wretch  !  "  said  Harcourt,  springing  for- 
ward, "  how  dare  you  make  such  an  offer  to  me  ? " 

"Pause,  reflect,"  said  the  other.  "The  last  of  the  noble 
race  of  Harcourt  dying  on  the  gibbet,  like  a  dog.  She  is 
only  a  woman.  She  consented  to  do  as  you  wished.  Only 
a  woman."  He  had  drawn  from  his  pocket  as  he  spoke  a 
small  whistle,  and  held  it  in  his  hand. 

"  Do  what  you  please,7'  said  Harcourt,  drawing  back, 
and  resting  one  arm  on  the  mantel-piece,  "no  word  of  mine 
shall  stain  her  fair  fame." 

He  blew  the  whistle,  and  in  a  moment  the  room  was 
•full  of  soldiers. 


CHAPTER  XX. 

THE   REVENGE. 

"  Nay,  start  not,  'tis  of  one  abhorr'd." 
BYRON. 

EVERAL  days  had  elapsed  since  Edward  Mason 
had  had  his  interview  with  Mrs.  Quincey,  dur- 
ing which  time  he  had  wrung  a  reluctant  con- 
sent from  the  General  that  she  should  be  al- 
lowed to  proceed  to  D .  Despising,  as  General  Brown 

did,  the  treacherous  scoundrel  who  was  her  husband,  he 
was  yet  the  most  valuable  spy  in  the  employ  of  the  United 
States.  How  he  obtained  his  information,  or  how  he  suc- 
ceeded in  conveying  intelligence  was  a  mystery  which  the 
General  did  not  seek  to  unravel.  Love  of  gold  tempted 
him,  perhaps  love  of  gold  might  retain  him.  It  was  not  in 
human  nature,  however,  and  less  in  that  of  a  high-spirited 
soldier,  to  refuse  protection  and  assistance  to  a  woman,  and 
that  woman  young  and  beautiful. 

Edward  had  determined  that  he  would  confide  to  Eph. 
the  care  of  Mrs.  Quincey,  which  in  the  disturbed  nature  of 
the  country  was  absolutely  necessary.  He  had  expected 
some  little  reluctance  from  the  young  man,  but  not  the  al- 
most dogged  obstinacy  with  which  he  met  the  proposal. 
As  was  usual  with  Eph.,  this  reluctance  showed  itself  in  a 
series  of  questions,  shrewd,  clear,  and  most  difficult  to 
answer. 

(221) 


222  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

Eph.  was  not  a  servant.  He  had  returned  to  the  army 
more  on  account  of  his  love  for  Edward  than  any  other 
reason,  and  remained  attached  to  his  person  from  the  same 
feeling ;  but  now  he  had  other  plans.  His  keen  Yankee 
wit  showed  him  the  pecuniary  advantages  to  be  drawn  from 
trading  with  the  soldiers,  and  he  was  negotiating  for  the 
post  of  sutler  at  head-quarters,  a  position  which  Edward's 
influence  with  the  General  made  reasonably  certain. 

"  Who's  Mrs.  Quincey  ? "  he  asked,  after  hearing  Ed- 
ward's request  rather  than  command.  "  From  down  East, 
Boston  way  ?  " 

"No;  she  is  a  lady,"  answered  Edward,  "whose  hus- 
band is  absent,  and  in  whom  I  take  great  interest." 

"  Know  her  folks  ?  " 

"  Well,  no.     I  know  her  husband,  very  slightly." 

"  Friends  of  the  General  ? "  pursued  his  imperturbable 
follower. 

"  No ;  but  the  General  is  anxious  she  should  be  cared 
for  and  removed." 

"  Why  don't  he  send  one  of  his  orderlies.  He's  got 
half-a-dozen  hanging  round  doing  nothing." 

"  There  are  reasons,"  answered  Edward,  "  why  he  does 
not  want  to  be  mixed  up  in  this  affair  at  all." 

"  Hain't  got  a  clean  record.  It  strikes  me,  Ed.,  you 
ain't  acting  square  to  the  old  folks  to  home,  are  ye,  to  say 
nothing  of  Sibyl." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Edward,  turning  angrily 
towards  him.  "  Do  you  think  I  would  allow  any  one 
whose  character  I  thought  could  be  impeached,  to  enter 
that  house  ? " 

"  Should  think  not,"  replied  Eph.,  without  altering  a 


THE    REVENGE.  223 

muscle  of  his  face.  "  Kinder  think,  Ed.,  if  I  was  you,  I'd 
leave  man  and  wife  to  settle  their  own  quarrels.  Sure  to 
get  yer  fingers  burnt." 

"  What  makes  you  think  I  am  interfering  between  hus- 
band and  wife  ?  "  asked  Edward,  unable  to  resist  a  smile  at 
the  acuteness  of  the  remark. 

"  Plain  as  preaching,"  said  Eph.  "  Think  I  know  'em 
both.  She's  a  tall,  black-eyed,  black-haired  woman,  lives 
down  by  the  mill.  She  was  to  meeting  last  Sabbath.  Sings 
like  an  angel.  You  see,  Ned,  I've  been  thinking  of 
buying  out  this  here  sutler,  here.  He  had  the  lake  fever 
last  fall.  Thought  he  was  going  to  die.  When  you  think 
of  buying,  ye  had  better  know  something  of  the  value  of 
the  article.  So  I  have  dropped  in  there  at  his  place  of  an 
evening,  smoked  a  pipe  and  had  a  glass  of  rum,  and  kept 
my  eyes  open." 

"  You  have  told  me  of  this  before,  and  I  asked  the  Gen- 
eral if  he  would  give  you  the  post  if  you  could  make  a  bar- 
gain, as  you  wished  me  to." 

"  Did  you  now,"  said  Eph.,  interrupting  Edward.  "  That 
was  kind  and  neighbor-like.  Now  let  me  tell  my  story  in 
my  own  way,  or  I  must  shut  up." 

"  Well,  well,"  said  Edward,  "  go  on.  You  are  as  long 
as  the  moral  law  !  " 

"  Two  or  maybe  three  times,"  continued  Eph.,  "  there's 
come  to  that  store  a  small  black-eyed,  hawked  nosed  man, 
looks  like  a  Jew.  He  don't  belong  to  the  army,  though  he 
pretends  he's  got  business  here.  T'other  night,  when  the 
provost  guard  was  a-going  round  a-picking  up  stragglers, 
they  sot  down  on  him.  He  pulled  out  a  pass,  signed  by 
the  General  himself.  I  couldn't  see  the  name,  but  I  mis- 


224  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

doubted  the  fellow.  So  when  he  left,  I  jist  lounged  along 
after  him.  He  went  down  by  the  mill  and  stood,  a-hang- 
ing  round  there  half  an  hour  or  so,  but  he  didn't  go  in. 
Bet  you  a  drink  that's  Quincey,  or  whatever  his  name  is." 

There  was  a  great  deal  in  this  to  worry  Edward.  He 
knew  that  no  communication  had  passed  between  the  spy 
and  General  Brown.  This  might  be  easily  accounted  for 
by  the  absence  of  any  important  news.  But  why  had 
Quincey  not  seen  his  wife  ?  why  did  he  haunt  her  abode, 
and  yet  shun  her  actual  presence. 

"  Come,  Eph.,  I  will  take  it  as  a  great  favor  if  you  will 
see  to  this  lady  as  far  as  Albany.  You  shall  not  lose  any 
thing  by  it.  I  can  keep  the  sutler's  post  for  you  as  you 
know." 

"  I'd  do  'most  any  thing,  Ed.,  to  please  you.  But  I  tell 
you  plainly  it  is  agin  the  grain.  Now  see,  you  jist  write 
all  you  know  about  this  affair  to  Sibyl.  It  will  do  you  no 
harm,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  What  difference  will  it  make  to  Sibyl,  you  donkey. 
Mrs.  Quincey  will  tell  her  own  story.  You  don't  think 
Sibyl  will  believe  I  am  in  love  with  this  woman,  do  you  ?  " 

"  You  jist  do  it  now,  I  tell  you.  The  old  woman  is  a- 
nagging  of  Sibyl,  don't  mean  nothing,  but  she  does, 
and  old  men  are  mighty  parsevering.  They  ain't  got  such 
a  long  time  to  spend  sparking  as  we  have." 

Edward  did  not  reply.  He  moved  uneasily  in  his  seat, 
and  then  abruptly  left  the  room.  When  Mason  entered 
the  General's  office  he  found  him  standing  with  his  back 
to  the  fire,  and  evidently  in  no  very  amiable  mood. 

"  Captain  Mason,  have  you  seen  this  letter,"  he  tossed 
an  open  letter  on  the  table  before  him  as  he  spoke.  Ed- 


THE    REVENGE.  225 

ward  took  it  up.  It  was  written  in  an  unknown  hand,  and 
was  without  any  signature,  and  stated  if  a  guard  was  sent 
at  eight  o'clock  that  night  to  a  place  indicated,  an  English 
spy  could  be  captured,  having  valuable  papers  on  his  per- 
son. Great  secrecy  must  be  kept,  and  the  guard  must  be 
prepared  for  a  desperate  resistance.  The  place  indicated 
was  but  a  short  distance  from  the  house  occupied  by  Mrs. 
Quincey.  Sackett's  Harbor  was,  with  the  exception  of 
some  trifling  field-works,  perfectly  undefended  on  the  land- 
side,  and  the  sparse  nature  of  the  settlement,  and  the 
proximity  of  the  surrounding  woods,  made  any  attempt  to 
control  the  entrance  or  exit  of  a  single  individual  extremely 
difficult. 

"  Thee  need  not  look  so  worried,"  said  the  General  half 
laughing  ;  "  I  make  no  doubt  it  is  the  work  of  our  friend 
Quincey.  The  English  would  not  be  half  the  soldiers  I  take 
them  for  if,  by  this  time,  they  did  not  know  just  how  many 
men  we  have  and  all  about  us.  Still  it  may  be  as  well  to 
send  the  guard." 

"  May  I  not  go  in  person,  General  ?  I  have  my  rea- 
sons," and  he  briefly  related  his  man  Eph.'s  having  dis- 
covered the  appearance  of  Quincey. 

"  Ah,  the  cunning  dog!  "  said  the  General.  "  He  draws 
pay  from  both  sides,  does  he  ?  Let  him  look  to  himself,  or 
I  will  make  his  wife  happy  in  making  her  a  widow.  Does 
thee  know  any  one  who  would  console  her,  Edward  ?  " 

"  Upon  my  soul,  General,  I  believe  her  all  that  is  good 
and  pure  and  unfortunate." 

"  Tut,  man  !  Thee  has  heard  the  French  proverb,  '  C'est 
I'occasion  qui  fait  le  voleur.'  What  time  is  it,  seven  o'clock  ? 
Send  for  two  files  and  a  sergeant.  Let  him  command  the 


226  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

party  and  do  thee  only  look  on,  unless  it  becomes  necessary 
to  act." 

Edward  was  about  starting  to  obey  the  orders,  which 
had  been  given  in  a  quick,  sharp  tone,  entirely  different  to 
the  usual  gentle,  soft  voice  used  by  General  Brown  in  his 
intercourse  with  his  favorite,  when  the  General  said  : 

"  Take  this  man,  this  Eph.,  as  you  call  him,  with  thee, 
and  let  him  see  if  he  recognizes  the  guide  whom  you  hope 
to  meet.  Don't  get  thyself  shot,  my  boy.  A  man  at  bay 
is  a  desperate  animal." 

Edward  had  hadly  time  to  call  Eph.  when  the  guard  he 
had  sent  for  was  ready  on  the  street.  Taking  his  sword 
under  his  arm  the  young  officer  ordered  the  sergeant  in 
command  to  march  his  squad  to  the  place  indicated  in  the 
letter,  and  there  to  receive  such  orders  as  might  be  neces- 
sary. The  night  was  clear  and  piercingly  cold.  A  sharp 
north-west  wind  swept  down  the  frozen  surface  of  the  lake, 
bringing  with  it  the  chill  of  the  arctic  zone.  The  men 
marched  rapidly,  so  rapidly  in  fact  as  to  make  conversation 
with  Eph.  difficult,  and  all  that  Edward  could  do  was 
briefly  to  explain  the  object  of  their  mission.  There  was 
something  in  the  boy's  manner  which  astonished  Edward. 
It  might  be,  however,  only  his  true  Yankee  phlegm.  He 
was  not  in  the  slightest  degree  surprised  at  the  errand  they 
were  on.  It  was  useless  to  question,  only  monosyllables 
were  returned  in  answer.  The  men  had  halted  at  the 
point  mentioned,  and  stood  stamping  their  feet  and  slap- 
ping their  hands  to  keep  them  from  freezing.  Edward, 
warmly  wrapped  up,  had  drawn  within  the  shadow  of  a 
building,  followed  by  the  silent  but  expectant  Eph.  Some 
few  minutes  elapsed  when  a  dark  figure  stole  softly  towards 


THE    REVENGE. 

the  watchful  sergeant  of  the  guard,  and  a  low  whispered 
conversation  took  place  between  them.  Edward  turned  to 
point  out  this  figure  to  his  companion,  when  to  his  sur- 
prise, he  was  gone.  Noiselessly  as  a  shadow,  he  had  crept 
from  Edward's  side,  and  was  lost  in  the  shade  of  the  sur- 
rounding buildings.  The  conversation  between  the  ser- 
geant and  the  new-comer  was  conducted  in  so  low  a  tone 
that  not  a  sound  reached  Edward's  ear.  Before  he  had 
recovered  from  the  surprise  caused  by  Eph.'s  disappear- 
ance, the  guard  had  again  started.  This  time  the  men 
marched  as  silently  as  possible,  and  as  Edward  had  sur- 
mised, halted  in  front  of  the  little  house  inhabited  by  Mrs. 
Quincey.  The  stranger  again  held  a  whispered  conversa- 
tion with  the  sergeant,  and  then  crept  up  the  steps  of  the 
house,  the  door  opened  and  shut  noiselessly,  and  he  was 
gone.  When  Edward  reached  the  sergeant  the  astonished 
soldier  looked  blankly  in  his  face. 

"  What  did  that  man  tell  you,"  said  Edward.  "  Come, 
sir,  be  brief." 

"  To  wait  here  until  I  heard  a  whistle.  Then  to  rush 
in  and  seize  or  bayonet  on  the  slightest  resistance  whoever 
I  saw." 

"  Do  no  such  thing,"  said  Edward,  authoritatively. 
"  Make  prisoner,  but  offer  no  violence  except  as  the  last 
resort.  Do  you  understand  me,  the  last  resort.  You  take 
your  orders  from  me,  I  am  responsible,  not  you,  sir." 

The  sergeant  answered  respectfully  and  gave  the  ne- 
cessary orders  to  his  guard.  Oh,  how  slowly  the  minutes 
dragged  on !  At  first,  excitement  kept  the  men  on  the 
alert,  but  soon  the  excessive  cold  crept  over  even  Edward's 
excited  feelings. 


228  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  Captain,"  said  the  sergeant,  respectfully,  "  my  men 
will  be  frozen  if  we  stay  still  here  much  longer ;  can't  they 
walk  up  and  down  ?  " 

Edward  was  in  utter  perplexity.  What  should  he  do  ? 
He  felt  certain  some  treachery  lay  hidden  under  this  mys- 
tery, but  the  spirit  of  his  orders  was  clear  and  plain. 
Motioning,  rather  than  speaking  his  consent,  that  the  men 
should  be  marched  rapidly  up  and  down  the  street,  Edward 
revolved  in  his  mind  the  expediency  of  himself  entering 
the  house.  He  hesitated,  anxious  to  save  Mrs.  Quincey 
from  the  pain  of  being  disturbed  by  so  violent  an  entrance, 
when  there  rang  on  the  air  a  loud  whistle,  followed  by  a 
shriek  so  piercing,  so  heart-rending,  that  the  strong  men 
actually  trembled  as  they  looked  into  one  another's  faces. 
Edward  was  the  first  to  recover,  with  one  bound  he  was  at 
the  top  of  the  low  stoop,  and  calling  on  the  guard  to  follow, 
he  burst  rather  than  opened  the  door. 

The  small  passage  way  into  which  he  entered  was  de- 
serted, a  bright  lamp  burned  on  the  table,  but  all  within 
was  as  silent  as  the  grave.  A  door  on  his  left  hand  was 
partly  open,  and  as  he  entered,  he  witnessed  a  scene  which 
for  the  moment  made  his  heart  stand  still.  Immediately  in 
front  of  him  stood  .the  spy  Quincey,  his  wrappings  and 
disguise  thrown  aside.  At  his  feet,  crouching  on  the  floor, 
vainly  striving,  as  it  seemed,  to  clasp  his  knees,  was  his 
wretched  wife.  Her  hair  had  become  loosened  and  fell 
over  her  like  a  veil.  Her  eyes  were  red  with  weeping,  and 
her  whole  attitude  showed  the  most  abject  terror.  At  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  his  face  pale,  but  otherwise  as  calm 
and  composed  as  if  in  a  drawing-room  in  London,  resting 
one  elbow  on  the  mantel-piece,  stood  his  friend,  Captain 


THE    REVENGE.  229 

Harcourt,  and  in  the  garb  of  a  civilian.  There  was  some- 
thing devilish  in  the  look  Quincey  cast  on  his  wife,  as, 
raising  his  hand,  he  pointed  to  Harcourt. 

"  That  man  is  a  Captain  in  the  Royal  Guards,  in  dis- 
guise, within  your  lines.  I  denounce  him  as  a  spy." 

There  was  a  moment  of  perfect  stillness,  when  he  hissed 
out  rather  than  said  : 

"  Now,  adulteress,  it  is  my  turn." 

Mason  glanced  at  the  poor  woman,  who  slowly  sank, 
inch  by  inch,  until  she  lay  motionless  at  the  wretch's  feet, 
then  turned  his  wondering  look,  first  on  Harcourt,  then  on 
the  demoniacally  gleeful  face  of  Quincey. 

"  Fall  back  !  "  Edward  exclaimed  to  the  guard,  "  fall 
back,  no  questions,  I  command !  " 

"  Captain  Harcourt,"  he  went  on  to  say,  "  there  must 
be  some  awful  mistake  here.  You  never  came  within  our 
lines  as  a  spy.  On  your  honor  as  a  gentleman,  state  to 
me  you  did  not  come  as  a  spy,  and  whatever  may  be  the 
consequences,  you  shall  go  free." 

There  was  a  moment  of  perfect  silence,  broken  only  by 
the  mocking  laugh  of  Quincey,  when  Harcourt  said  : 

"  You  are  very  kind  old  fellow,  but  I  don't  think — if  I 
were  in  your  place — I  should  act  so,  you  know,  Captain 
Mason,"  and  he  moved  a  step  forward,  casting  one  look 
on  the  fainting  woman, — "  I  am  your  prisoner." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


LIFE   OR   DEATH. 

"  I  from  this  time  forth  will  thus  proceed, 
Justice  with  mercy  tempering  when  I  may, 
But  executing  always."  HENRY  TAYLOR. 

HE  accuser  and  the  accused,  both  under  the 
strict  surveillance  of  their  guard,  were  marched 
rapidly  to  head-quarters.  Edward  Mason  stayed 
a  moment  to  commit  the  still  unconscious 
woman  to  the  care  of  the  mistress  of  the  house,  whom  the 
noise  and  bustle  had  brought  upon  the  scene.  Eph., 
whose  boundless  curiosity  and  self-assertion  even  these 
occurrences  could  not  check,  had  picked  up  from  the  floor 
the  letter  which  Harcourt  had  handed  to  Mrs.  Quincey,  and 
with  a  muttered  "perhaps  this  can  tell  something,"  fol- 
lowed in  the  footsteps  of  his  impatient  master.  The  two 
men  did  not  speak  during  their  short  walk,  and  so  rapidly 
was  the  distance  traversed  that  they  entered  the  house  at 
the  same  moment  as  the  guard.  Edward  made  his  way  at 
once  to  the  presence  of  General  Brown,  whom  he  found 
busy  writing.  It  was  with  an  air  almost  of  indifference 
that  his  superior  heard  the  report  made  by  his  aid. 
'230) 


LIFE    OR   DEATH.  23! 

"  So  you  know  this  man,  do  you  ?  "  asked  General 
Brown. 

"  Indeed  I  do,"  replied  Edward  ;  "  it  was  to  him,  and 
him  alone,  I  was  indebted  for  a  thousand  acts  of  kindness, 
while  I  myself  was  a  prisoner  in  the  hands  of  the  British." 

"  Well,  my  boy,"  said  the  General,  smiling  kindly  at  the 
excited  young  man,  "  send  him  now  to  the  guard-house,  or 
take  charge  of  him  yourself,  and  repay,  as  well  as  you  can, 
what  he  has  done  for  you  during  the  short  time  he  is 
likely  to  remain  here." 

"  And  the  other,  the  spy  Quincey,"  asked  Edward. 

"  Let  him  go,"  returned  the  General,  taking  up  his  pen, 
"  to-morrow  I  will  appoint  a  commission,  and  have  the 
affair  quietly  looked  into." 

"But,  General,"  urged  Edward,  "  I  greatly  fear  some 
dreadful  harm  will  come  to  that  wretched  woman  if  left 
alone  with  this  excited,  almost  crazy  husband  of  hers." 

"Well,  my  young  champion  of  Dames,"  said  the  other, 
•with  a  cheerful  laugh,  "  lock  this  raging  '  Othello  '  up  also, 
and  then  comfort  the  fair  lady  yourself.  In  short,  my 
dear  boy,  act  in  this  matter  as  you  please.  I  give  you  full 
authority ;  now  not  another  word.  Good-bye." 

When  Edward  joined  the  party  in  the  outer  room,  he 
shuddered  as  his  eyes  encountered  those'  of  Quincey, 
which  seemed  actually  to  blaze  with  fury. 

"  Captain  Harcourt,  have  I  your  parole  ?  "  he  asked.  The 
other  bowed.  "  Sergeant,  take  this  man  " —  he  pointed  as 
he  spoke,  to  Quincey — "  to  the  guard-house  ;  tell  the 
officer  on  guard  to  show  him  every  kindness,  but  to  see 
that  he  does  not  escape." 

He  had  hardly  finished  the  sentence,   when,  with  a 


232  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

bound  like  a  tiger,  Quincey  threw  himself  on  Harcourt, 
who  was  standing  with  his  back  to  him,  and  whom  the 
shock  threw  on  the  floor.  Had  it  not  been  for  the  prompt- 
ness of  Eph.,  who  passed  his  arm  round  the  madman's 
head,  drawing  it  back  until  his  neck  was  almost  dislocated, 
and  thus  compelling  him  to  release  his  hold,  Quincey  would 
have  inflicted  a  severe  if  not  a  fatal  injury  on  Harcourt. 
Quincey  was  immediately  seized  by  the  soldiers,  and  after 
a  fruitless  struggle  secured.  Eph.  did  not  escape  scathe- 
less— the  maddened  man  had  made  his  teeth  meet  in  the 
fleshy  part  of  his  arm.  Captain  Harcourt  rose  breathless 
and  somewhat  stunned  from  his  fall,  and  it  was  several 
moments  before  he  spoke. 

"  I  trust,"  he  said  at  last,  looking  at  his  assailant  who 
was  being  dragged  to  the  door,  "that  this  attack  will  not 
cause  any  unnecessary  severity  to  be  inflicted  towards  that 
unhappy  person.  He  has  just  cause  to  hate  me.  I  am 
not  in  the  slightest  degree  hurt." 

Edward  made  no  reply,  but  passing  his  arm  through 
that  of  the  young  officer  drew  him  away  to  his  quarters. 
Eph.  followed  grimacing  at  the  pain  which  the  bite  caused, 
and  anathematizing  his  assailant  in  the  quaint  language  of 
his  class. 

"  Drat  the  fellow,  there  was  no  occasion  to  bite,  'cause 
I  saved  him  from  swinging ;  'spose  you  two'd  like  to  talk  a 
bit  together.  Guess  I'll  send  up  what  there's  to  be  had 
for  supper,  and  then  get  one  of  them  Doctors  to  put  some 
yarb  or  other  on  this  plaguey  arm  of  mine.  Lord  !  how  it 
does  hurt." 

Harcourt  was  greatly  exhausted.  He  had  tasted  hardly 
any  food  the  entire  day,  and  the  excitement  under  which  he 


LIFE    OR    DEATH.  233 

had  labored,  had  worn  him  out.  It  was  with  difficulty  that  he 
forced  himself  to  eat  the  plain  but  not  uninviting  food  that 
Eph.'s  forethought  had  provided.  Mason  watched  him 
in  silence.  As  he  ran  his  eye  over  the  intelligent  though 
rather  languid  countenance,  with  its  clear-cut  features  and 
aristocratic  air,  the  athletic  and  graceful  form,  he  did  not 
wonder  at  Mrs.  Quincey's  choice.  He  was  certainly  such 
a  man  "as  limners  love  to  paint  and  ladies  to  look 
upon." 

"  '  You  cast  your  bread  upon  the  waters  and  it  comes 
back  to  you  in  many  days,'  or  words  to  that  effect,  the  good 
book  says,  Mason.  I  certainly  little  thought  when  I  visited 
you  in  the  citadel,  at  Quebec,  I  should  ever  be  your  guest 
under  like  circumstances." 

"  I  am  indebted  to  you,  Harcourt,  for  so  many  real  acts 
of  kindness,  that  the  little  I  can  now  do  is  as  nothing.  But 
tell  me,"  he  went  on,  stopping  Harcourt  in  what  he  was 
about  to  say,  "  what  could  have  induced  you  to  come  into 
our  lines,  and  in  disguise — some  strange  mistake  or  equally 
strange  fatality !  " 

"  I  certainly  did  not  come  as  a  spy,"  answered  Harcourt 
drawing  his  chair  close  to  the  fire,  "although  I  know  I  can 
never  prove  the  fact  before  any  military  court.  You  see, 
Mason,  when  people  speak  the  same  language  and  resemble 
one  another  as  we  do,  it  is  hard  to  draw  imaginary  lines,  even 
if  they  exist  in  the  eyes  of  military  men,  particularly  when 
there  is  a  constant  intercourse  kept  up  by  the  citizens 
without  any  interference  on  the  part  of  either  of  the  belliger- 
ent governments.  Ah,  me  !  "  he  went  on  with  a  sigh,  "  why 
try  and  hide  the  truth  from  you.  I  had  a  letter,  or  thought 
I  had  one,  from  Lucy,  asking  my  aid — bidding  me  to  come 


234  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

to  her.  Come  to  her !  I  would  have  found  her  if  she  had 
been  buried  '  in  those  deep  solitudes  and  awful  cells  '  that 
Pope  writes  of.  Fool  that  I  was,  I  might  have  known  she 
never  wrote  the  letter !  " 

"  Then  you  did  get  a  letter ;  you  were  tricked,  trepanned 
into  this  mad  enterprise — I  will  call  it  by  no  other  name," 
eagerly  asked  Mason.  "  Give  me  the  letter — where  is  it — • 
it  may  save  your  life  !  " 

Harcourt  never  moved.  He  sat  looking  silently  into 
the  fire,  d"fld  it  was  not  until  Mason  rather  angrily  repeated 
his  question,  that  he  answered  : 

"  No,  my  boy,  it  cannot  be.  I  must  not  purchase  safety 
at  her  expense  ;  don't  urge  me,  it  must  not  be.  In  the 
delirium  of  passion,  I  pressed  her  to  break  the  barrier 
which  fate  had  raised  up  between  us.  I  thought  that  only 
to  possess  her,  all  else  in  this  world  was  as  nothing.  Her 
fair  name,  my  own  honor.  I  would  have  sacrificed  every 
thing  to  have  called  her  mine.  I  love  her  so  dearly,  so 
fondly,  that  now  that  reflection  has  come,  I  can  say  I  thank 
God  she  is  saved  from  disgrace  even  at  the  expense  of 
my  own  life." 

"  But,  Harcourt,  you  carry  this  chivalric  feeling  to  the 
height  of  madness.  Mrs.  Quincey  did  not,  you  say,  write 
that  letter.  It  was  the  work,  doubtless,  of  her  scoundrel 
husband.  How  then  can  she  be  injured,  even  should  all 
the  truth  be  known." 

"  How  she  will  be  injured  you  ask  ?  Listen.  In  my  in- 
terview I  took  advantage  of  the  power  which  her  love  for 
me  gave  me.  I  obtained  her  consent  that  she  would  fly 
with  me.  This  wretch,  I  cannot  call  him  a  man,  who  could 
pander  to  his  own  dishonor — who  could  accept  revenge  at 


LIFE    OR   DEATH.  235 

the  expense  of  his  wife's  fair  fame — this  creature  heard 
every  word.  Heard  my  mad  pleadings.  Heard  her  agonizing 
consent,  and  then  offered  to  open  the  door  of  safety  to  me 
if,  by  so  doing,  I  would  admit  her  shame.  Lucy  Quincey, 
save  in  loving  me,  has  no  fault.  She  is  pure  and  spotless. 
What  is  my  useless  life  compared  to  her  honor.  No,  no, 
urge  me  no  more,  my  resolve  is  taken."  Harcourt  buried 
his  face  in  his  hands  as  he  finished  speaking. 

Mason  thought  long  and  anxiously  over  General  Brown's 
parting  speech — "  act  in  this  matter  as  you  please.  I  give 
you  full  authority."  Had  he  authority  to  release  his  pris- 
oner ?  Could  he  allow  him  to  escape  ?  His  heart  was  deeply 
moved  for  the  firm,  manly  character,  who  with  every  thing 
before  him  to  make  life  enjoyable — wealth,  high  position, 
such  as  were  almost  unknown  in  America — yet  ran  the 
risk  of  being  shot  as  a  spy,  rather  than  cast  the  breath  of 
suspicion  on  the  woman  he  loved. 

"  Look  here,  Harcourt,"  Mason  said  at  length,  "  General 
Brown  gave  me  full  authority  to  act  in  this  affair  as  I  chose. 
I  am  going  to  let  you  go."  A  bright  look  came  into  the 
other's  face  as  he  heard  these  words,  and  stretching  out  his 
hand,  he  took  that  of  Mason's. 

"  Mason,  old  fellow,  I  promise  you  on  my  honor,  that 
no  thought  of  obtaining  information  on  any  subject,  save 
what  was  connected  with  Lucy  ever  came  into  my  mind. 
To  this  I  pledge  you  my  honor  as  a  soldier  and  a  gentle- 
man. But  have  you  this  authority  ?  " 

"  Yes,  I  think  so,"  answered  Mason  rather  hesitatingly, 
in  reply" to  this  direct  question ;  "  at  any  rate  I  will  take  the 
responsibility." 

"  No,  no,  old  boy,  that  won't  do,"  said  the  other  rising 


236  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

from  his  seat  and  again  taking  his  hand  ;  "  you  are  very 
kind  to  me,  Mason  ;  you  are  a  gentleman  in  every  sense 
of  the  word,  but  you  must  not  do  for  me  what  I  should 
hesitate  to  do  for  you,  and  unless  the  order  had  been 
positive,  you  know,  'pon  my  word,  I  don't  think  I  could 
have  done  so  even  for  you,  you  know." 

"  Harcourt,  I  dread  the  commission  if  you  are  sent 
before  one  ;  for  me  it  will  be  nothing.  I  can  truly  say 
the  General  gave  me  full  authority  to  act  as  I  thought 
best." 

"  Is  that  my  bed  ? "  said  Harcourt  shortly,  pointing  as 
he  spoke  to  one  that  stood  in  a  corner  of  the  room.  "  I  am 
very  tired — quite  knocked  up.  Have  me  called  at  any  hour 
you  want  me.  Good-night."  He  threw  himself  as  he  spoke 
on  the  bed,  and  in  one  minute  was  sleeping  as  calmly  as 
an  infant. 

There  was  something  very  striking  in  the  calm  high 
bred  way  in  which  this  young  Englishman  met  the  almost 
certain  consequences  of  his  own  folly.  Could  General 
Drown  have  been  present  at  this  interview,  and  conversant 
with  all  the  facts,  Mason  would  have  had  but  little  fears  of 
the  result.  Dut  Harcourt  would  be  sent  before  a  judge 
to  whom  the  act  was  every  thing,  the  intention  nothing. 
As  these  thoughts  crossed  his  mind  Mason  descended  to 
the  lower  room  which  was  used  in  common  by  all  attached 
to  the  military  family  of  General  Brown.  Here  he  found 
Eph.  in  a  state  of  high  excitement  talking  to  a  woman,  ev- 
idently endeavoring  to  prevent  her  further  entrance  into 
the  house.  It  needed  but  a  glance,  notwithstanding  her 
wrappings,  for  Mason  to  recognize  Mrs.  Quincey.  As  he 
came  near  she  threw  back  her  veil,  and  showed  him  a  face 


LIFE    OR    DEATH.  237 

beautiful  in  its  palor,  and  lit  up  by  eyes  which  shone  in 
the  midst  of  tears. 

"  Oh,  Captain  Mason,  save  him,  save  him  !  "  were  all  the 
words  her  broken  voice  could  command. 

With  the  gentle  kindness  of  a  brother,  Mason  drew 
her  into  an  adjoining  apartment.  He  shrank  from  hav- 
ing her  exposed  to  the  curious  gaze  of  the  rough  order- 
lies in  attendance.  He  placed  a  chair  for  her  near 
the  fire,  and  endeavored  vainly  to  comfort  a  creature 
without  hope. 

"  Oh,  Captain  Mason  ! "  she  exclaimed,  "  this  is  my 
my  doing.  I,  and  I  only,  am  responsible  for  this  murder, 
for  murder  it  will  be,  if  Charles  loses  his  life.  It  was  to 
save  me,  and  me  only,  from  what  he  knew  was  a  life  of 
misery,  that  he  came  here.  I  did  not  write  the  letter,  but 
I  was  the  cause  of  its  being  written.  And  now  he — he 
must  suffer  and  for  my  fault." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Quincey,"  said  Mason,  still  holding  her 
hand  and  stroking  it  as  he  would  have  done  to  a  little 
childj  "  pray  compose  yourself,  our  only  hope  of  saving 
Harcourt  from  the  consequences  of  his  folly  lies  in  prov- 
ing the  reason  of  his  having  come  within  our  lines.  Where 
is  the  letter  ?  " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  wretched  woman,  drawing 
away  her  hand  and  brushing  off  the  tears  which  filled  her 
eyes.  "  I  have  not  seen  the  letter  since  he  came  into  the 
room."  A  shudder  ran  through  her  frame  as  she  alluded 
to  her  husband.  "  Captain  Harcourt  must  have  it — I 
think  I  gave  it  back  to  him." 

Mason  bent  over  the  fire  and  kicked  the  burning  logs 
with  angry  impatience. 


238  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  Then  he  is  lost,"  he  said  at  length. 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  don't  say  so,"  exclaimed  Lucy,  clasping 
her  hands,  "  oh,  why  are  you  so  cruel  as  to  say  that  ? " 

"  I  have  tried  my  best  this  evening  to  induce  Harcourt 
to  make  public  the  statement  of  what  brought  him  within 
our  lines,  and  he  obstinately  refuses." 

"  Why,"  said  she,  looking  up  with  a  face  of  childlike 
simplicity.  "  What  reason  can  he  have  ? " 

"  He  says  it  will  compromise  your  honor." 

"  My  honor  !  why  should  my  honor  or  my  life  or  any 
thing  which  belongs  to  me  interfere  with  his  safety.  Lis- 
ten to  me,  Captain  Mason.  Go  to  this  General  of  yours, 
I  do  not  even  know  his  name.  Go  and  say  that  the  love 
that  Lucy  Quincey,  the  wife  of  a  paid  spy  in  your  service, 
could  not  help  showing  to  the  playmate  of  her  childhood, 
to  the  affianced  husband  of  her  youth,  was  made  use  of  as 
a  lure  to  satisfy  the  revenge  of  a  wretch  so  base  that  at 
any  time  he  would  have  staked  that  wife's  honor  on  the 
chance  of  a  card  or  the  hazard  of  a  die." 

She  had  risen  from  her  seat  as  she  spoke.  Her  heavy 
cloak  had  fallen  back,  her  long  curls,  damp  from  the  night 
air,  hung  half  shrouding  her  pale  face  in  which  shone  an 
expression  of  fixed  determination. 

"  Go,  go  at  once,  I  say,  to  this  General  who  holds  in 
his  hands  the  issue  of  life  and  death.  Tell  him  the  man 
he  is  going  to  condemn  is  innocent  of  every  thing  but  of 
loving  the  heart-broken  creature  who  stands  before  you. 
If  Harcourt  dies,  and  by  my  hand,  for  it  will  be  by  my 
hand,  what  is  honor  to  me  but  an  empty  name.  Go,  Cap- 
tain Mason,  tell  him  all  this — tell  it  from  me." 

"  Why  not  say  it  yourself,  and  not  send  a  messenger  ? " 


LIFE    OR    DEATH.  239 

said  a  clear  low  voice  behind  them,  and  it  was  with  a  start 
both  Mason  and  Mrs.  Quincey  turned  to  find  General  Brown, 
wrapped  in  his  military  cloak,  his  heavy  horseman's  boots 
covered  with  snow,  standing  a  silent  spectator  of  their  in- 
terview. 


CHAPTER  XXII. 

THE    REPRIEVE. 

"  A  letter  forged  St.  Jude  to  speed, 
Did  ever  knight  so  foul  a  deed  ? " 

SCOTT. 

ASON  was  but  little  astonished  at  the  sudden 
entrance  of  General  Brown,  for  at  all  hours  of 
the  day  and  night  he  was  accustomed  to  make 
unexpected  visits  to  hospital,  barrack  or  outpost, 
to  see  personally  if  the  efforts  he  was  making  to  change,  in 
one  winter,  the  raw  recruit  and  undisciplined  militia  man 
into  the  trained  and  obedient  soldier  were  successful. 

To  Lucy  Quincey,  General  Brown's  personal  appearance 
was  unknown.  She  only  saw  a  handsome  soldierly  man, 
of  middle  age,  in  the  full  uniform  of  a  general  of  the  army, 
and  by  the  respectful  manner  in  which  he  was  received  by 
her  companion,  she  knew  at  once  who  he  was.  Motion- 
ing her  to  a  chair,  the  General  threw  off  the  cloak  which 
he  wore,  and  placing  his  cocked  hat  on  the  table,  turned 
abruptly  towards  Mason  and  asked  in  quick,  stern  tones — 
"  Who  is  this  lady,  Captain  Mason  ?  " 
As  briefly  as  he  could,  Mason  stated  who  Mrs.  Quincey 
was,  and  the  errand  on  which  she  had  come.  He  took 
advantage  of  the  opening  thus  made  for  him,  and  urged 

in  his  own  behalf  a  strong  petition  for  the  release  of  his 

(240) 


THE    REPRIEVE.  24! 

friend.  General  Brown  heard  him  all  through  without  ut- 
tering a  word,  and  with  the  same  stern  expression  of  coun- 
tenance, which  softened  a  little  as  he  turned  his  look  on 
the  beautiful  woman,  who  with  every  feeling  of  her  soul 
centred  in  her  gaze,  sat  with  folded  hands,  listening  to 
the  words  which  she  knew  meant  either  life  or  death  for 
him  she  loved  better  than  life. 

"You  say,"  he  said,  addressing  himself  suddenly  to 
Lucy,  "  a  letter  was  written  in  your  name,  asking  him 
to  come  and  rescue  you  from  danger.  Who  wrote  this 
letter  ?  You  say  you  did  not." 

"  My  husband." 

"  Your  husband  ? "  a  smile  of  incredulity  crossed  for 
an  instant  the  General's  face.  "  "Where  is  this  letter  ?  " 

"  Alas  !  "  said  the  poor  woman,  "  I  do  not  know  ;  after 
my  fainting  fit,  all  memory  except  his  danger  was  forgot- 
ten. Send — send  instantly  to  the  house,  it  must  be 
there ! " 

"  Then  you  were  yourself  ignorant  of  any  knowledge 
of  this  intended  visit  of  Captain  Harcourt,  I  think  you  call 
him  ? " 

"  Such  an  idea  never  crossed  my  mind,"  she  answered. 

"  You  have  held  no  communication  whatsoever,  by  let- 
ter or  messenger,  with  this  officer,  since  you  have  entered 
the  territory  of  the  United  States  ? "  he  continued. 

"  Neither  message  nor  letter  of  any  kind  or  nature 
whatsoever." 

"  Captain  Mason,  where  is  this  young  officer  ? " 

"  He  is  at  present,  sir,  in  my  quarters  ;  I  understood 
that  you  gave  me  authority." 

"  Yes,  yes,  you  might  have  stretched  that  authority 
16 


242  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

further  without  my  rebuking  you.  Oblige  me  by  sending 
or  going  for  him,  and  at  the  same  time,  Mason,  tell  one  of 
the  orderlies  to  have  a  corporal's  guard  here  in  readi- 
ness." 

As  Mason  left  the  room,  General  Brown  turned  to- 
wards Lucy,  and  after  looking  at  her  for  a  moment,  said, 
slowly  and  distinctly, 

"  Now,  madam,  if  you  will  control  yourself  and  keep 
quiet,  and  this  young  officer's  story  agrees  with  yours,  I 
will  take  his  parole  as  a  prisoner  of  war." 

Lucy  could  only  clasp  her  hands  in  thankfulness. 

The  General  walked  to  the  window  and  appeared  to  be 
looking  out  on  the  still,  quiet  winter's  night.  Oh,  how  the 
minutes  dragged !  It  appeared  to  Lucy  as  if  Harcourt 
never,  never  would  come.  She  thought  little  or  nothing 
of  herself.  The  weary  years  of  mental  suffering,  the  ne- 
glect, the  shame,  the  brutal  ill  usage,  had  been  in  these 
last  few  hours  forgotten.  In  memory  Lucy  went  back  to 
her  youth — to  the  play-fellow,  the  gentle,  affectionate 
boy-lover — to  the  man  who  to  her  first  whispered  love 
— to  the  only  man  she  had  loved.  As  she  sat  so  still  and 
quiet,  the  big  tears  trembling  on  the  long  eyelashes,  a 
faint  tinge  of  color  flickering  in  her  cheek,  General  Brown 
felt,  as  he  turned  and  looked  on  her,  that  he  must  be 
more  than  a  man  who  could  refuse  to  risk  life  and  honor 
at  the  call  of  such  a  woman.  But  what  was  she  ?  Was 
she  an  adventuress  ?  Was  he  the  dupe  of  a  well-laid  plot, 
or  was  this  one  of  those  cases  of  mental  aberration  men 
call  love  ?  The  door  opened,  General  Brown  turned 
quickly  and  fixed  his  eye  intently  on  the  young  officer 
who  entered.  As~  Harcourt  saw  Lucy,  he  gave  a  sudden 


THE    REPRIEVE.  243 

start,  grew  deadly  pale,  then  flushed  a  deep,  burning  red. 
He  never  spoke  a  word,  nor  did  a  sign  of  recognition  ever 
so  slight,  pass  between  the  two  thus  suddenly  brought  into 
each  others  presence. 

"  Your  name  and  rank  ? " 

"Captain  the  Hon.  Charles  Harcourt,  ist  Reg.  foot 
guards,  at  present  attached  to  the  staff  of  Gen.  Sir  George 
Prevost,  Governor  and  Commander-in-chief  of  his  B.  Ma- 
jesty's provinces  of  the  Canadas." 

"  Your  business  within  the  military  lines  of  the  United 
States  ? " 

"  Upon  my  word,  sir,  it  were  hard  to  tell — a  silly  freak 
to  see  how  you  Yankees  fared  during  the  cold  weather.  I 
think  that  is  about  the  best  reason  I  can  give." 

"Well,  sir,  and  what  is  your  opinion  of  how  the 
'  Yankees,'  as  you  call  them,  fare  ? "  inquired  the  General, 
not  a  tone  of  his  voice  altering  at  the  affected  imperti- 
nence of  the  young  Englishman's  speech. 

"  My  opportunities  have  been  so  few,  arriving  in  this 
village  after  dark  as  I  did,  and  since  then  being  so  care- 
fully cared  for,  that  I  prefer  not  answering  the  question." 

"Are  you  ignorant,  that  for  a  soldier  to  enter  the 
camps,  lines,  or  other  military  positions  of  the  enemy  in 
disguise,  is  a  crime  punishable  by  the  articles  of  war,  of 
all  civilized  nations,  by  death  ?  " 

Harcourt's  only  answer  was  a  bow. 

"  Then,  not  pleading  ignorance,  thee  came  as  a  spy, 
thee  has  been  taken  as  such,  and  to-morrow  at  sunrise, 
thee  shall  be  shot !  "  General  Brown's  voice  became  ter- 
rible in  its  intensity,  but  it  was  the  only  sign  he  gave  of 
ordinary  feeling,  in  thus  dooming  a  fellow-creature  to  eter- 


244  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

nity.  His  face  wore  a  smile,  his  attitude  was  graceful  and 
unaffected  as  he  stood  with  his  back  to  the  fire,  facing  the 
little  group.  Mason  had  started  forward  as  if  about  to 
speak,  but  a  quick  wave  of  the  hand  had  showed  the  fruit- 
lessness  of  any  such  attempt.  As  for  Lucy,  abject  fear 
had  taken  away  the  power  of  motion,  and  she  sat  like  an 
image  carved  in  rock.  Harcourt  had  manned  himself,  but 
all  his  courage  could  not  prevent  the  tremor  which  ran 
through  his  veins,  and  for  an  instant  his  voice,  as  he  an- 
swered, quivered. 

"  I  shall  make  no  attempt,  sir — I  feel  it  would  be  use- 
less— to  soften  a  sentence  to  which,  as  a  military  man,  I  am 
liable,  under  the  state  of  facts  as  you  know  them.  I  have, 
however,  one  favor  to  ask.  Let  the  name  and  rank  of 
Charles  Harcourt  be  omitted  from  the  record.  Let  him 
sink  into  a  nameless  grave,  untainted,  at  least  so  far  as 
his  family  and  the  world  know,  with  disgrace  !  " 

"  Thee  shall  have  thy  wish.     Can  I  do  more  for  thee  ? " 

"  No  ;  I  thank  you.  I  have  had  more  kindness  than  I 
had  any  right  to  expect."  The  words  fell  mournfully  from 
the  young  officer's  lips,  and  his  eyes  rested,  full  of  love  and 
sadness,  on  the  beautiful  statue  before  him. 

"  Return,  then,"  said  General  Brown,  "to  the  chamber 
you  occupied.  You  shall  pass  this  night  alone  with  your 
God.  You  meet  your  fate  as  a  brave  man  should.  I  rely 
upon  your  honor  if  you  will  give  it.  I  pay  this  compliment 
to  thy  courage."  The  General  bent  his  head  courteously 
and  motioned  to  Mason  to  accompany  his  friend.  The 
noise  of  the  closing  door  broke  the  trance  in  which  Mrs. 
Quincey  sat.  It  was  with  a  gasping  sob  she  fell  forward, 
clasping  the  hand  of  the  General  as  she  did  so. 


THE    REPRIEVE.  245 

"  Spare  him  !  for  the  love  of  God,  spare  him  !  He  is 
no  spy.  I — I  brought  him  here.  I — I  alone,  am  guilty  !• 
Punish  me,  but  do  not  make  the  innocent  suffer."  General 
Brown  raised  her  from  her  knees  and  compelled  her  to 
seat  herself.  Then  taking  her  hand,  he  said  in  a  kindly 
tone  : 

"  My  poor  child,  I  would  willingly  grant  much  more 
than  this  to  a  woman's  tears.  But  your  story  and  that  of 
this  young  man  do  not  agree.  He  admits  he  came  into 
our  lines  to  obtain  information.  I  fear  he  has  but  played 
with  your  affection." 

"  Oh,  no,  no,  General,  why  won't  you  believe  me  ?  We 
have  known  each  other  ever  since  we  were  children.  I 
was  to  have  been  married  to  him,  but  they  forced  us  apart. 
We  met  again  at  Quebec.  He  saw  how  I  was  treated. 
He  saw  how  I  was  abused,  neglected,  yes,  and  even  beat- 
en. He  never  spoke  to  me  but  as  a  man  should  speak  to 
a  dearly  loved  sister ;  but  I  knew  the  time  would  come, 
when  the  old  love  would  break  out,  and  then  we  should 
be  lost !  "  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
sobbed  convulsively.  It  was  with  a  voice  husky  with 
tears,  that  she  went  on — • 

"  A  scene  took  place  one  evening,  at  which  Captain 
Mason  was  present.  My  husband  had  cheated  at  cards, 
and  Captain  Harcourt  discovered  him  and  exposed  him, 
and  forced  him  to  refund  what  he  had  gained.  Oh,  Gen 
eral,  I  had  borne  every  thing.  I  had  been  made  the  tool, 
by  which  men,  old  men  as  well  as  young,  had  been  drawn 
to  our  house  to  be  robbed  and  plundered.  Oh,  do  not 
judge  me  harshly  ;  think  kindly  of  me.  I  was  so  young.  I 
was  alone,  no  voice  to  support  me,  no  eye  to  pity.  The 


246  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

wife  of  a  man  to  whom  honor  was  an  empty  sound.  But 
I  weary,  I  tire  you.  Do  not  turn  from  me,  oh,  I  shall  die 
I  shall  die  !  " 

The  heart-broken  woman  bent  her  face  to  her  very 
knees  as  she  rocked  herself  to  and  fro  in  agony. 

"  Indeed,  indeed  you  do  not  tire  me,  my  poor  child," 
said  the  General.  "  Speak  to  me  as  you  would  to  a  father. 
Tell  me  the  truth,  the  entire  truth,  and  if  thy  story  is  what 
I  am  willing  to  believe  it  to  be,  I  will  spare  this  youth's 
life,  and  put  thee  not  only  where  thee  will  be  safe,  but 
honored  and  respected.  Compose  thyself  and  then  pro- 
ceed." 

It  was  some  moments  before  she  recovered  sufficient 
composure  to  resume  her  narrative. 

"  When  my  husband  was  detected  as  a  cheat,  in  his 
mad  rage  he  accused  Captain  Harcourt  of  being  my  lover. 
There  was  no  word  too  vile,  there  was  no  accusation  too 
base,  which  was  not  heaped  on  my  head.  At  length  I 
turned  on  him.  The  worm  they  say  turns  at  length.  I 
had  in  my  hands  some  notes  to  which  he  had  forged  the 
signatures.  I  threatened  to  send  them  to  Sir  George  un- 
less he  consented  to  our  separating  forever.  To  save 
himself  he  agreed,  and  I  chose  the  States.  Why,  I  know 
not,  except  it  erected  between  Harcourt  and  myself  a  bar- 
rier as  impassable,  I  thought,  as  the  grave.  For  two  months 
I  have  lived  alone  here.  My  scanty  stock  of  money 
almost  gone,  without  hope,  helpless,  homeless,  alone.  In 
my  despair,  to  save  myself  from  appealing  to  Charles,  I 
asked  aid  of  Captain  Mason,  whom  I  had  recognized  soon 
after  my  arrival.  He  promised  me  succor.  Promised  to 
send  me  to  some  quiet  place,  where  his  own  family  lived, 


THE    REPRIEVE.  247 

and  where,  by  teaching  music,  the  only  accomplishment  I 
possess,  I  might  earn  my  bread." 

"  Your  story  agrees  with  Mason's  word  for  word.  Go 
on,  finish  thy  history  ;  but  do  not  excite  thyself.  You  in- 
terest me  much." 

"  There  is  but  little  left,  sir,  to  tell.  My  husband  had 
discovered  my  retreat.  This  evening  Harcourt  stood  be- 
fore me.  He  had  received  a  letter  in  my  handwriting, 
asking  him  to  come  to  me,  offering  myself  to  him,  if  he 
would  only  come  and  save  me.  Oh,  I  cannot  go  on." 

Poor  Lucy,  her  cheeks,  lately  so  deadly  pale,  were  now 
burning  red. 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  will.  What  are  my  feelings  compared  to 
his  life.  I  told  him  the  letter  was  not  mine,  but  he  was 
there.  The  love  of  years  broke  down  the  barrier  I  had 
raised.  He  urged  me  to  fly  with  him,  and  I  consented. 
My  husband,  who  had  planned  the  whole  affair,  had  in 
some  manner  obtained  a  guard.  From  you,  sir,  did  he  not  ?  " 

"  He  did.  He  had  written  me  that  a  spy  could  be 
taken,  by  sending  a  guard  to  a  certain  house  at  a  certain 
hour.  As  a  general  rule,  I  pay  little  attention  to  such 
letters,  but  there  were  military  reasons  which  made  me 
anxious  to  know  if  I  was  not  being  played  with.  I  mis- 
trusted your  husband,  so  I  sent  the  guard." 

"  Well,  sir,  to  bring  my  long  story  to  an  end,  my  hus- 
band had  heard  all  that  passed.  To  gratify  his  mad 
hatred  he  called  in  the  guard.  Now,  General,  you  know 
all — on  my  honor,  all." 

"  I  wish,  Mrs.  Quincey,  we  had  that  letter.  I  will  call 
Mason.  Oh,  here  he  is.  Mason,  did  none  of  the  guard 
find  this  much-talked-of  letter  ? " 


248  SIBYL    SPENCER, 

"I  am  happy  to  say,  General,  that  my  servant,  who  had 
from  curiosity  followed  me,  picked  it  up,"  and  he  handed, 
as  he  spoke,  the  paper  to  General  Brown,  who  read  it  half 
to  himself  and  half  aloud. 

"  A  very  clever  forgery,  but  none  but  a  boy  would  imag- 
ine it  came  from  a  woman.  The  turn  of  the  sentences, 
the  expressions  used,  are  those  of  a  man.  Why  did  this 
young  fellow  keep  silence  on  what  might  have  saved  his 
life.  Can  you  answer  me  that,  Mason  ?  " 

"  A  chivalrous  sense  of  honor,  sir,  I  believe.  He  re- 
proaches himself  with  this  lady's  suffering,  and  thought  by 
silence  to  save  her  fair  name." 

"  How  strange  is  the  human  heart !  Mason.  My  child, 
I  will  keep  you  no  longer  in  suspense.  Your  lover  (par- 
don the  word,1 1  mean  no  reproach)  shall  not  suffer  death. 
This  I  promise,  but  you  must  be  placed  in  safety.  Now 
go  home  and  sleep  in  peace.  You  are  worn  out  with 
anxiety  and  sorrow.  Mason  send  one  of  the  orderlies  with 
her.  Dismiss  that  guard  and  come  back.  I  want  to  talk 
with  you." 

When  Mason  returned  to  the  room  he  found  the  Gen- 
eral standing  in  the  same  attitude  before  the  fire,  the  letter 
still  in  his  hand. 

"  My  boy,  I  said  how  strange  is  the  human  heart. 
See  now,  this  young  officer  braves  death,  disgrace,  any 
thing  to  obtain  a  woman.  She  is  within  his  grasp.  She 
consents.  He  has  but  to  call  her  the  thing  he  would  have 
made  her.  His  honor  revolts  at  the  idea.  The  word 
blisters  his  tongue  to  utter.  He  would  rather  die  than 
speak  it.  Where  is  he  ?  How  does  he  act  in  this  dread- 
ful trial  ? " 


THE    REPRIEVE.  249 

"  I  never  saw  a  man  more  calm,  General.  After  thank- 
ing me  for  all  I  had  tried  to  do  for  him,  he  threw  himself 
on  his  bed  and  now  sleeps  as  quietly  as  a  child." 

"  Sleeps,  does  he,"  muttered  the  General.  "  Sleeps, 
when  to-morrow's  sun  sends  him,  as  he  thinks,  to  eternity. 
They  are  a  strange  race,  these  Norman-English,  and  yet 
their  great  warrior,  their  greatest  ruler,  Cromwell,  was  but 
a  simple  gentleman.  Take  this  young  man's  parole  not  to 
serve  until  he  has  been  exchanged  and  send  him  back  after 
he  has  recovered  from  his  fatigue.  Make  arrangements 
for  this  fair  lady's  safety  and  honor,  as  you  would  for  a 
sister.  Now,  dismiss  these  thoughts  from  your  mind,  Ed- 
ward. We  shall  have  to  sound  'boot  and  saddle  soon.' 
We  change  our  head-quarters  this  week." 

"  Oh,  General,  have  we  orders  to  advance  ? " 

*'  Mason,  they  have  made  me  a  Major-general  in  the 
regular  army.  I  am  now  in  command  of  this  whole  fron- 
tier. I  asked  for  thee  the  rank  of  Lieut.-colonel,  and  thee 
has  it.  We  must  beat  these  English  —  that  is,  as  old 
Nat  Green  said,  '  if  an  English  soldier  can  be  beaten  ' — if 
it  were  but  to  show  them  what  a  man  of  peace  can  do." 
He  broke  into  a  merry,  hearty  laugh,  and  slapping  his 
young  aid  affectionately  on  the  shoulder,  added — 

"  Edward,  like  a  true  knight  of  old  you  love  to  succor 
distressed  damsels  and  love  sick  squires.  Now,  my  boy, 
show  me  you  are  worthy  of  your  spurs.  Good-night." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE    CANNY   SCOT. 

"  His  unclosed  eye 
Yet  lowering  on  his  enemy 
As  if  the  hour  that  seal'd  his  fate, 
Surviving  left  his  quenchless  hate." 

THE  GIAOUR. 

ASON'S  nerves  had  been  severely  taxed  by  the 
scene  he  had  witnessed,  and  he  sat  down  by  the 
fire  in  the  outer  room,  anxious  to  recover  some 
composure.  The  soldiers  on  duty  sat  or  lay  doz- 
ing on  the  chairs  or  benches,  and  nothing  broke  the  perfect 
stillness  except  the  tread  of  the  sentinel  on  duty,  and  the 
low  cadence  of  the  tune  he  was  whistling  to  break  the 
monotony  of  his  night  watch. 

Mason  had  fallen  into  a  half  sleep  when  the  steps  of  a 
man  running  rapidly,  and  the  quick,  sharp  challenge  of  the 
sentry,  made  him  start  to  his  feet.  The  outer  door  was 
flung  open,  and  a  man  panting  with  haste  entered.  The 
spy,  Quincey,  had  made  a  desperate  effort  to  escape  from 
the  guard-house,  and  one  of  the  sentries  had  fired  on  him  ; 
he  was  supposed  to  be  dying,  and  had  earnestly  begged 
that  Edward  might  be  sent  for.  Putting  on  his  overcoat, 
Edward  accompanied  the  man  to  the  guard-house.  This 
was  an  old  barn,  which  had  been  hastily  fitted  up  to  serve 
the  requirements  of  the  service.  Several  small  cells,  to 
act  as  places  of  confinement,  had  been  built  in  the  rear 
(250) 


THE    CANNY    SCOT.  25! 

of  the  building,  and  the  whole  had  been  made  warm  and 
comparatively  comfortable  by  two  large  stoves. 

On  a  blanket  in  front  of  one  of  the  stoves  lay  Quincey, 
the  damp  dews  of  death  on  his  forehead,  and  his  features 
pinched  and  drawn  by  the  agony  he  was  suffering.  By 
his  side  knelt  a  middle  aged  man,  a  surgeon  in  one  of  the 
regiments  quartered  at  Sackett's  Harbor.  The  doctor  held 
in  his  hand  a  long  probe,  and  his  case  of  instruments  was 
open  by  his  side. 

"  Ye  maun  lay  quiet,  mon,"  said  he  to  the  wounded 
man,  with  a  strong  Scotch  accent.  "  How  the  deel  can  I 
probe  ye  when  ye  wriggle  sa." 

"  Torment  me  no  more,"  said  the  wounded  man.  "  I 
am  beyond  the  reach  of  mortal  aid." 

"  Ye  ken  the  truth,  mon,"  said  the  doctor  as  he  bent 
over  and  moistened  the  sufferer's  lips  with  spirits  and 
water.  "  Ye  maun  cross  the  dark  river,  an  there  be  a 
river,  which  nae  one  of  us  can  tell."  He  rose  as  he  spoke, 
and  turning  to  Edward,  went  on — 

"  The  mon  is  wounded  unto  death,  and  he  kens  it  well. 
He's  been  asking  for  ye,  captain,  so  I  jist  sent  one  of  the 
laddies  to  make  known  his  wishes.  If  ye  have  aught  to 
say  ye  maun  say  it  quickly.  He  has  nae  more  than  a  half 
turn  of  the  glass  to  linger." 

Quincey  heard  the  softly  uttered  words,  and  opening 
his  eyes,  turned  them  slowly  on  Mason.  "I  sent  for  you, 
captain,  to  make  you  my  heir.  Will  you  bend  down  here. 
It  pains  me  to  talk  loud." 

Mason  knelt  down  by  his  side,  all  his  aversion  gone,  as 
he  looked  at  the  dying  wretch. 

"  Can  I  do  any  thing  for  you,  Mr.  Quincey,  or  rather, 


252  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

will  you  not  let  me  send  for  some  minister  of  religion  to 
soothe  these  last  moments." 

"  No,  no,"  said  the  man,  speaking  in  a  stronger  tone 
than  he  had  heretofore  used.  "  As  I  have  sown,  so  must 
I  reap.  Mr.  Mason,  I  have  on  me  some  hundreds  of  dol- 
lars ;  I  give  them  to  you  to  be  used  for  her  benefit.  Find 
her  some  quiet  home  where  she  can  live  in  peace  until  she 
can  return  to  England." 

"  I  will,"  said  Edward,  much  moved  by  the  intensity  of 
the  man's  utterance.  "  I  will  treat  her  as  I  would  my  own 
sister.  But  would  it  not  be  better  to  send  her  at  once 
through  the  lines,  and  let  her  join  her  family  without  delay  ? " 

"  No,  I  say  no  !  "  almost  screamed  the  man  ;  "  what, 
give  her,  before  I  am  cold,  to  that  Harcourt.  They  will 
be  happy  enough  as  it  is,  when  they  hear  I  am  dead." 
He  shuddered  as  he  spoke  ;  "  I  am  cold,  give  me  some 
more  spirits  ;  more,  more,"  for  the  physician  gave  it  to  him 
in  a  spoon.  "  There  is  no  danger  of  my  dying  a  drunk- 
ard," and  he  broke  into  a  sneering  laugh.  Ineffably  dis- 
gusted, Edward  made  a  motion  to  rise.  The  dying  wretch 
clutched  him  by  the  arm. 

"  Don't  leave  me,  I  would  pray,  if  I  thought  my  prayer 
would  be  answered.  The  prayers  of  the  righteous  avail 
much,  they  say  ;  perhaps  some  fiend  from  hell  will  answer 
mine." 

"Wretched  man!  "  exclaimed  Edward,  "  think,  in  a  few 
short  minutes  you  will  stand  before  your  God.  If  you 
have  suffered  wrong,  forgive,  as  you  hope  to  be  forgiven. " 

"  Forgive !  forgive !"  muttered  the  other,  his  voice  grow- 
ing feebler  and  feebler,  while  his  hand  pulled  idly  at  the 
blanket  thrown  over  him.  Spirits  were  poured  down  his 


THE    CANNY    SCOT.  253 

throat  this  time  in  quantities.  For  an  instant  it  gave  him 
strength. 

"  Listen,"  he  said.  "  From  my  birth  I  have  been  a 
pariah — illegitimate.  The  sins  of  the  father  have  been,  in 
my  case,  visited  on  the  child.  There  is  no  vice  of  which  I 
am  not  guilty.  There  was  but  one  bright  spot,  my  love 
for  her.  Of  that  he  robbed  me.  No,  in  this  I  do  him 
wrong.  It  never  was  mine.  Now,  with  my  last  word  I 
say,  were  a  long  life  mine,  or  might  I  sup  this  night  in 
Paradise,  I  would  give  it  all  to  see  him  lying  dead  by  my 
side.  Adieu." 

In  the  strong  excitement  of  his  words  he  had  raised 
his  head,  which  now  fell  heavily  back,  as  his  breathing 
grew  more  and  more  labored. 

"  It  is  over,"  said  Edward,  rising  to  his  feet  and  ad- 
dressing the  doctor  who  stood  by. 

"  Not  yet,"  said  the  man,  "  the  carl  will  breathe  some 
time  yet.  He  will  never  speak  more.  Ye  are  not  used  to 
such  scenes,  Captain  Mason.  Ye  had  better  come  to  my 
quarters  and  take  a  hot  punch  to  cheer  ye  a  bit.  There's 
nae  use  in  staying  by  sich  a  freckless  loon,  with  the  death 
rattle  in  his  throat."  Edward  cast  a  long  look  on  Quincey, 
whose  breathing  grew  each  moment  shorter  and  shorter, 
then  turned  for  an  explanation  as  to  how  he  had  been 
wounded. 

The  explanation  was  simple.  Their  orders  had  been 
to  treat  him  kindly  but  not  to  allow  him  to  escape.  For 
more  than  two  hours  he  had  sat  patiently  by  the  stove 
without  making  a  motion  or  uttering  a  word.  Suddenly  he 
darted  to  the  door.  The  sentinel  outside  hearing  the  cry 
of  "  stop  him !  stop  him  ! "  fired,  and  Quincey  dropped. 


254  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  I'll  nae  say,"  muttered  the  Scotch  surgeon  as  he 
carefully  arranged  his  instruments  in  their  case — "  I'll  nae 
say  I  am  not  ower  kind-hearted.  Had  the  case  been  at 
St.  Bat,  there's  mony  a  man  would  have  amputated  at  the 
thigh  joint.  'Tis  a  hard  thing,  Captain  Mason,  to  be  too 
soft-hearted.  Ye  dinna  rise  in  your  profession,  de  ye  ken 
that  ?  " 

"  Why  did  you  not  do  it,"  said  Mason  sternly  ;  "  it  was 
your  duty  to  save  the  man's  life." 

"  I  am  na  so  sure  about  the  saving,"  said  the  cautious 
Scot ;  "  it  is  my  ain  opinion,  he'd  a  died  under  the  knife. 
The  shock  is  ower  great  for  the  constitution.  Then  the 
bullet  lodged  somewhere  in  the  great  intestine.  I'll  na 
use  medical  terms,  for  ye  wouldn't  understand  me  if  I  did, 
but  inflammation  would  have  done  the  business  after  all." 

Mason  felt  deadly  sick  and  longed  for  the  fresh  air  ; 
the  doctor,  his  amputating  case  under  his  arm,  kept  close 
by  his  side. 

"  'Tis  for  aye  the  same  old  story,  Captain  Mason. 
Wine,  women,  and  play — they  bring  mony  a  pretty  fellow 
to  a  sae  ending.  Ye  maun  cum  in  and  we  will  have  a 
brew,  not  to  get  fou,  but  as  Tommy  Burns  has  it — ye  hae 
heard  of  Tommy,  na  doubt.  'Jist  a  drappy  in  our  e'e.'  " 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  said  Mason,  "  but  I  am  worn  out 
with  fatigue,  and  perhaps  the  General — " 

"  Deel  dout  him,"  interrupted  the  other  ;  "  he's  a  carl 
loon,  is  the  General.  But  I  mind  the  time  well,  and  its 
nae  so  lang  since  ether,  he  nae  have  left  good  company 
till  the  cock  crow.  Ye  mind  the  old  story,  Captain  Mason, 
and  it  was  my  ain  forbear  as  said  it.  He  was  a  licensed 
preacher,  and  he  gave  it  to  his  flock  somewhat  in  this  wise. 


THE    CANNY    SCOT.  255 

It  was  way  up  in  Perthshire — 'tis  a  sour  country  is  the 
Hill  country,  and  the  carls  were  nae  muckle  afraid  to 
keep  the  damp  out. 

"  Ye  maun  hai,"  he  said,  "  be  aye  dram,  dramming.  But 
when  ye  have  a  friend,  or  the  night's  owna  cold,  or  any 
other  reason,  ye  can  take  a  wee  drap,  'for  the  stomach's 
sake.'  I'll  nae  say  St.  Paul  was  nae  a  reasonable  man. 
But  ye  must  be  owna  careful  of  the  sin  of  dram,  dram- 
ming." Dragging  Mason  after  him,  perhaps  nothing  loath, 
he  mounted  the  stairs  to  the  quarters  he  occupied. 

"  There,  ye'll  nae  find  sich  a  tipple  in  the  States.  It's 
real  Glenlivet.  Rax  me  the  kittle  fra  the  hob,  I  aye  keep 
it  on  the  simmer." 

Mason  was  amused  by  the  original  character  of  the 
man  he  had  encountered.  There  was,  with  all  his  rattle,  a 
constraint  which  sat  ill  on  him,  and  as  Mason  studied  his 
face,  he  saw  in  it  the  lines  and  marks  of  a  dissipated  life. 
After  they  had  commenced  their  second  punch,  Mason 
expressed,  in  a  civil  way,  his  astonishment  at  finding  a 
Scotchman  engaged  as  surgeon  in  the  American  service. 
It  was  as  the  man  had  said  in  the  commencement  of  their 
interview,  but  the  old  story,  "  wine,  women,  and  play." 
Reckless,  at  last  he  found  himself  a  homeless  wanderer  in 
the  new  world.  Accident  threw  him  in  the  way  of  General 
Brown,  then  holding  a  subordinate  position  on  the  staff  of 
the  Commander-in-chief  of  the  American  army.  The  tact 
and  kindness  of  General  Brown  weaned  him  from  his  evil 
habits,  and  he  had  followed  him  to  the  settlement  which 
the  former  was  making  in  the  wild  Black  River  country, 
and  settled  down  into  a  hum-drum  country  physician.  It 
was  but  natural  he  should  become  the  surgeon  on  the  staff 


256  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

of  the  General,  who  had  organized  the  militia  of  the  new 
district,  and  as  naturally  he  followed  his  regiment  when 
they  were  ordered  into  service  by  the  governor  of  the 
State. 

"  I'll  nae  say,  Captain  Mason,  it  was  not  agin  the  grain, 
when  I  heard  the  '  blue  bonnets  were  over  the  border.' 
But  I  aye  comfort  myself  wi'  the  reflection,"  and  the 
man's  eyes  twinkled  with  sly  humor  as  he  spoke,  "  that 
there's  deel  a  one  of  them  all  will  kill  more  of  you  Yankees, 
with  'brown  Bess,'  than  I  may  do,  if  I  have  luck  with  the 
scalpel  and  the  pill-box.  Take  a  wee  drap  more,  Captain 
Mason,  afore  you  gie  out  in  the  cold.  You  are  tired  and 
excited,  and  I  will  give  you  a  composing  draught  that  will 
make  you  sleep." 

"  Many  thanks,  my  good  sir,"  Edward  answered  with 
a  laugh  as  he  rose  to  take  his  departure.  "  But  after  your 
frank  confession  I  prefer  to  trust  to  nature." 

"  You  are  a  sharp  laddie,"  the  Doctor  said,  wringing 
warmly  the  hand  extended  to  him.  "  I  ken  that  well, 
and  as  one  of  our  new  Scotch  poets  says, 

"And  if  \ho\igoest  among  the  rest 
With  Scottish  broadsword  to  be  blest, 
Sharp  be  the  brand  and  sure  the  blow 
And  short  the  pang  to  undergo." 

The  sun  had  long  risen  before  Edward  woke  Harcourt 
from  the  deep  sleep  which  he  had  kept  uninterruptedly 
during  the  night.  It  needed  but  a  glance  at  Mason's 
smiling  face  to  tell  the  young  Englishman  that  he  was  not 
to  stand  before  a  firing  party  that  morning. 

"  So  one  more  day  added  to  the  list,  I  see,"  Harcourt 


THE    CANNY   SCOT.  257 

said  sadly,  rising  and  seating  himself  on  the  side  of  the 
bed. 

"  Many,  very  many,  I  trust,  my  dear  Harcourt,"  an- 
swered Edward  ;  "  my  orders  are  to  send  you  through  the 
lines — you  are  on  parole  until  exchanged." 

For  some  moments  Harcourt  sat  silent,  then  he  arose 
and  walked  to  the  window  and  stood  looking  on  the 
bright  morning  sunshine,  glancing  back  from  the  white 
surface  of  the  snow.  When  he  turned,  his  lips  quivered 
and  a  tear  trickled  down  his  cheek. 

"  God  is  very  kind,  Edward.  May  he  bless  you  and 
yours.  That  wretched  man,  I  trust  he  has  been  released." 

"  Yes,  by  death,"  Edward  answered,  and  briefly  related 
the  circumstances  of  the  night.  Harcourt  heard  him 
through  in  silence  ;  he  walked  slowly  up  and  down  the 
room  several  times,  then  stopped  in  front  of  his  compan- 
ion and  said : 

"  Will  you  act  for  her,  Lucy,  I  mean,  as  you  said  you 
would,  before  my  wretched  advent  ?  " 

11  Yes." 

"  Add  one  more  to  the  many  obligations  I  am  under. 
Take  from  me  a  sufficient  sum  of  money,  and  place  it  in 
such  hands  that,  until  I  can  make  other  arrangements,  she 
will  be  above  want.  Time  must  elapse  before  Lucy  and  I 
can  meet.  I  feel  now  as  if  there  were  blood  on  my  hands." 

"  My  dear  Harcourt,  dismiss  such  an  idea  from  your 
mind.  You  were  not  even  remotely  the  cause  of  that 
wretched  man's  death." 

Harcourt  did  not  answer,  he  had  turned  again  to  the 
window,  and  it  was  some  moments  before  he  could  con- 
trol his  feelings  sufficiently  to  speak.  Then  he  said : 


258  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  Edward,  my  trust  in  you  is  as  unbounded  as  my 
gratitude.  I  leave  Lucy  in  your  hands,  only  see  she  does 
not  want  for  any  thing  that  money  can  buy.  Your  looks 
tell  me  you  are  impatient  to  be  gone.  Tell  that  Eph.,  that 
man  of  yours,  to  come  here,  he  has  been  in  and  out  several 
times  during  the  night.  I  should  like  to  appear  like  a 
gentleman,  even  if  I  am  a  prisoner." 

"  I  will  send  him,  with  pleasure,  my  dear  Harcourt,  but 
Eph.  has  not  the  mildest  idea  of  what  constitutes  a  valet." 

"  He  can  steal  for  me  a  clean  shirt,  I  make  no  doubt," 
replied  the  otherwith  a  laugh;  "  I  want  you  to  present  me 
to  that  General  of  yours.  I  was  impertinent  to  him  last 
night,  and  I  wish  to  make  my  excuse.  He  is  a  brave 
soldier,  if  ever  there  was  one,  you  can  see  it  in  his  eye. — 
How  it  flashed  as  I  made  that  boyish  speech  !  " 

"  I  can  present  you  easily  enough  to  the  General,  as  he 
told  me  to  ask  you  if  you  would  breakfast  with  him  this 
morning." 

"  I  esteem  the  honor  greatly.  But,  my  dear  fellow,  how 
strange  are  life's  vicissitudes.  A  suspected  spy,  a  con- 
demned prisoner,  and  now — but  if  I  am  to  appear  as  a  decent 
man,  let  alone  in  the  character  of  a  gentleman,  please  let 
that  man  of  yours  steal  that  shirt— and  one  more  favor,  do 
you  not  think  there  is  some  vessel  which  contains  a  little,  a 
very  little,  more  water  in  the  house  than  this." 

Harcourt  made  his  apologies,  and  thanked  the  General 
with  the  calm  quiet  a'r  of  a  man  thoroughly  at  home  in 
every  class  of  society.  He  related,  with  perfect  frankness, 
the  means  he  had  used  to  enter  the  village  of  Sackett's 
Harbor,  and  concluded  by  saying — 

" 1  was  not  aware  how  very  closely  allied  the  inhabitants 


THE   CANNY    SCOT.  259 

of  each  district  were,  General,  until  my  experience  on  this 
little  trip." 

"  I  suppose  not,"  replied  the  General.  "  Those  are 
facts  carefully  kept  from  the  knowledge  of  '  men  in  power.' 
Smuggling  goes  on,  I  know,  to  a  great  extent.  The  perfect 
blockade  which  your  government  now  are  making  so 
stringent,  has  made  luxuries  very  costly.  But  to  change 
the  subject,  where  have  you  served  ? " 

When  the  natural  shyness  and  reserve  of  his  dis- 
position wore  off,  Harcourt  was  a  capital  talker.  He 
had  served  on  the  staff  in  Spain,  and  had  been  a  party  to 
the  masterly  retreat  of  the  British  into  the  lines  of  "  Torres 
Vedras."  His  description  of  Spanish  character,  and  of  the 
almost  insurmountable  difficulties  under  which  the  British 
commander  had  labored,  was  interesting  in  the  extreme. 
Accident  had  brought  him  in  contact  with  more  than  one  of 
the  French  Marshals  commanding  in  Spain,  and  the  con- 
trasts he  drew  between  these  celebrated  men  were  life-like 
in  their  outline. 

Charmed  as  Edward  was  by  this  conversation,  which 
opened  a  life  of  which  before  he  had  been  ignorant,  he 
was  still  more  struck  with  the  intelligent  and  remarkable 
knowledge  which  General  Brown  displayed  on  all  the  sub- 
jects connected  with  the  different  armies,  and  the  countries 
in  which  they  were  engaged.  Several  times  he  corrected 
Harcourt  in  some  trivial  matter  connected  with  the  geog- 
raphy of  the  battle  grounds  ;  so  much  so,  that  the  young 
Englishman  expressed  his  surprise  and  belief  that  he  must 
have  visited  the  locality. 

"  No,  I  have  not,"  said  the  general,  smiling,  "  I  have 
never  had  the  good  fortune  of  travelling.  My  information, 


26O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

crude  and  slight  as  it  is,  has  been  drawn  solely  from  books 
and  an  occasional  conversation  with  some  one  as  intelli- 
gent as  yourself." 

He  paused  a  moment,  and  glanced  out  of  the  window 
at  a  sleigh  which  had  stopped  before  the  house ;  and  then 
continued  in  a  different  tone  of  voice — 

"  Captain  Harcourt,  there  is  a  pass  in  my  handwriting, 
yonder  is  a  sleigh  with  a  soldier  in  attendance,  they  will 
take  you  to ."  He  named  some  point  on  the  Ca- 
nada line.  "  I  have  your  parole  not  to  serve  until  ex- 
changed. No,  not  one  word,"  he  said,  interrupting  the  young 
man,  who,  blushing  deeply,  was  about  speaking.  "  If  she 
loves  you  she  will  wait;  if  not,  'one  nail  drives  out  an- 
other,' as  your  French  friends  say.  Captain  Mason  will 
see  you  off.  Good-by.  Perhaps  we  may  meet  again."  He 
held  out  his  hand  as  he  spoke  and  immediately  left  the 
room. 

It  was  a  long  dreary  ride  that  cold  day  to  the  point  se- 
lected, and  Harcourt's  only  companions  were  his  thoughts. 
The  reaction  had  set  in,  the  nerves  so  long  strung  began  to 
give  way.  It  is  so  easy  to  meet  sorrow  in  company,  but 
when  solitude  comes,  to  look  at  the  future  alone,  and  at 
twenty-six,  the  future  has  a  dim,  distant  look,  very  hard  to 
meet.  Harcourt  was  powerless.  His  good  sense  told  him 
that  the  kindness  of  General  Brown  had  saved  him  from 
what,  under  ordinary  circumstances,  would  have  been  a 
fatal  folly.  Then  he  had  in  a  manner  given  his  word  ;  he 
could  only  strain  his  eyes  until  they  ached  to  catch  the  last 
glimpse  of  the  little  village  in  which  she  was  staying. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 

A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE. 

"  To  sigh,  yet  feel  no  pain  ; 
To  weep,  yet  scarce  know  why." 

BROWNING. 

jjjIBYL  was  enchanted  at  the  idea  of  having  a 
companion,  and  as  Edward  had  painted  Mrs. 
Quincey's  forlorn  and  helpless  condition,  her  at- 
tractive person  and  accomplished  manners,  in 

glowing  colors,  her  reception  at  D was  warm  in  the 

extreme. 

Doctor  Spencer,  who,  to  the  delight  and  astonishment 
of  physician  and  friends,  had  apparently  taken  a  new  lease 
of  life,  was  charmed  by  the  bright,  lively  conversation  of 
the  young  Englishwoman.  She  had  passed  so  much  of  her 
earlier  life  among  scenes  and  places  of  which  the  Doctor 
had  only  read,  that  to  have  described  by  an  intelligent  and 
well-educated  eyewitness,  the  wonders  of  the  old  world,  its 
cathedrals,  its  galleries,  its  palaces,  was  a  never-ending 
source  of  pleasure. 

Kind-hearted  and  affectionate,  Lucy's  happiness  grew 
with  the  happiness  she  was  giving.  Like  all  women 
of  her  temperament,  she  unconsciously  caught  the  tone 
and  feelings  of  the  hour,  and  of  those  with  whom  she  as- 
sociated. The  gentle,  loving,  holy  nature  of  Doctor 
Spencer — his  wonderful  powers  of  imparting  information 

(261) 


262  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

and  instruction,  while  he  seemed  only  desirous  of  whiling 
away  the  present  hour,  opened  to  his  young  guest  a  new 
life  of  hopes  and  joys  and  pleasures.  Ever  anxious  to 
render  Mrs.  Quincey  at  ease  with  herself,  an  effort  was 
made  to  procure  pupils  for  her  in  music.  The  only  one 
who  really  profited  by  her  knowledge  was  Sibyl  herself. 
The  dreamy  spiritual  nature  of  the  girl  made  her  keenly 
alive  to  the  power  of  music,  and,  as  under  Lucy's  able  in- 
struction her  natural  gifts  developed  rapidly,  a  new  world 
seemed  to  be  opened  to  her.  It  seemed  to  her  as  if  there 
were  thoughts  and  hopes  which  before  had  been  unknown. 
It  is  rare  to  find  this  characteristic  among  native  Ameri- 
cans. The  keen,  practical  character  of  the  people,  the  stern, 
self-asserting  life,  the  continual  struggle  in  which  for  years 
all  classes  have  been  engaged  first  in  rescuing  a  land  from 
the  savagery  of  nature,  then  in  building  up  the  foundations 
of  an  empire,  its  laws,  its  commerce,  every  thing,  in  short, 
which  a  new  people  require,  had  developed  the  practical 
rather  than  the  esthetical  side  of  'their  natures.  But  this 
feeling,  if  anywhere,  is  more  apt  to  be  found  in  the  Puritan 
element  in  New  England.  Its  very  religion  is  mystical. 
In  no  other  section  did  the  church  itself  so  soon  become 
infused  with  the  social  and  political  "  isms  "  of  the  day. 
Rationalistic  Spiritualism  had  grown  apace,  and  even  those 
who  would  be  least  suspected,  had  caught  the  infection  of 
the  hour. 

It  was  easy  to  see  that  Sibyl  found  in  music  a  supposed 
medium,  by  which  her  spirit  was  placed  in  close  communi- 
cation with  that  of  her  lover.  The  Doctor's  delicate  health 
and  his  self-absorption,  prevented  him  from  clearly  no- 
ticing the  growing  dreamy  state  of  his  child.  Not  so 


A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE.  263 

with  her  mother.  In  all  the  practical  matters  of  life,  Mrs. 
Spencer  saw  most  clearly,  and  when  she  saw,  she  did  not 
hesitate  to  speak. 

Mrs.  Spencer  found  a  ready  confidant  in  her  old  friend, 
Mr.  Hamilton.  Proud  and  self-contained  man  as  he  was, 
his  hopeless  love  for  Sibyl  showed  itself  in  his  utter  ina- 
bility to  remain  any  length  of  time  away  from  her  presence. 
It  caused  him  intense  pain  to  be  with  her  and  not  show  his 
love  ;  but  it  caused  him  still  more  to  keep  himself  from  her 
society. 

The  winter  had  dragged  its  slow  length  along,  spring 
had  come  "  to  bless  the  glad  ground,"  and  had  merged 
itself  into  summer.  In  no  part  of  America  is  this 
season  more  lovely  than  on  the  rough  hillsides  of  New 
England. 

"  For  the  Queen  of  the  Spring  as  she  passes  down  the  vale, 
Leaves  her  robe  on  the  trees,  and  her  breath  on  the  gale." 

For  some  days  Mrs.  Spencer  had  been  on  the  watch  for 
Mr.  Hamilton,  and  he  was  shown  that  morning  into  the 
library,  or,  as  was  the  fashion  of  that  day  to  call  it,  the 
Doctor's  study.  After  the  formal  salutations  to  which  old- 
fashioned  people  still  clung,  had  been  gone  through  with, 
Mrs.  Spencer  introduced  the  subject  which,  for  the  mo- 
ment, lay  closest  to  her  thoughts. 

"  Ah  me !  Mr.  Hamilton,"  she  said  at  length  after  a 
long  pause — "  ah  me  !  it  is  a  hard  thing  to  bear  unrepin- 
ingly  the  visitations  of  a  kind  Providence.  To  see  the 
husband  of  your  youth  slowly  fading  away  like  the  grass 
which  grows  up  and  is  cut  down  like  a  flower." 

Mrs.  Spencer  was  famous  for  getting  her  metaphors 


264  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

mixed.  Still  there  was  deep,  unaffected  grief  in  the  old 
lady's  heart,  and  Mr.Hamilton  warmly  showed  his  sympa- 
thy. 

"  But,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  Mrs.  Spencer  continued,  "  it  was 
not  so  much  to  speak  about  the  Doctor  that  I  got  them  to 
show  you  in  here,  as  it  was  of  Sibyl.  I  am  strangely 
alarmed  about  that  child." 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  the  gentleman,  at  once  all  at- 
tention, "  you  disturb  me  greatly.  What  has  happened  ? 
This  long  separation  from  Edward,  I  suppose  ? " 

"  Of  course  that  is  at  the  bottom  of  it.  You  see,  Mr. 
Hamilton,  she  has  not  been  the  same  girl  since  that  Mrs. 
Quincey  came  here.  I  am  sure  I  do  not  want  to  say  any 
thing  about  a  woman  who  has  had  so  many  trials,  passed 
through  the  furnace  like,  just  as  the  Doctor  used  to  de- 
scribe those  three  good  men  in  the  book  of  Daniel.  You 
remember  the  sermon  doubtless.  The  consistory  asked  to 
have  it  printed.  The  hardest  trial,  Mr.  Hamilton,  of  my 
life,  has  been  to  see  Jeems  wasting  his  life." 

"  Yes,  my  dear  madam,"  interrupted  the  gentleman, 
dreading,  as  did  all  Mrs.  Spencer's  friends,  an  outbreak  on 
so  prolific  a  subject  of  grievance.  "  The  Doctor  would 
command  in  any  situation,  as  he  does  here,  the  unqualified 
admiration  of  his  friends.  But  you  were  saying  you 
thought  Mrs.  Quincey — " 

"  Ah,  yes,  the  hateful  minx  !  I  hope  the  Lord  will  pardon 
me  for  showing  temper,  and  in  my  own  house  too.  But 
do  you  know  that  somehow  I  fear  Edward  may  have  shown 
a  little  too  much  attention  to  her,  and  thus  have  made 
Sibyl  unhappy." 

"  Nonsense,  my  dear  Madam.    Edward  is  a  fine,  manly, 


A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE.  265 

noble-hearted  fellow,  who  has  grown  up  with  Sibyl,  and 
whose  every  thought  and  aspiration  is  centred  in  her.  Be- 
sides, my  dear  madam,  you  are  unkind  to  this  young  lady. 
I  have  watched  Mrs.  Quincey  closely,  and  I  am  convinced 
she  has  no  other  desire  than,  what  any  pretty,  attractive 
woman  has,. to  be  as  charming  as  she  can." 

"  Oh,  that  is  just  the  way  with  all  you  men,"  interrupted 
Mrs.  Spencer  pettishly.  "  A  pretty  face  covers  a  multi- 
tude of  sins.  Not  that  I  mean  to  say  any  thing  bad  of 
Lucy,  only  she  can't  see  a  man  and  leave  him  alone." 

Mr.  Hamilton  burst  out  into  a  hearty  laugh. 

"  Am  I,  my  dear  Mrs.  Spencer,  also  infected  with  this 
subtile  poison?" 

"  Oh,  you  may  laugh,"  said  Mrs.  Spencer,  her  momen- 
tary anger  passed,  and  joining  in  his  merriment ;  "  but  you 
don't  see  her  as  I  do.  There's  the  Doctor,  now.  He  won't 
have  any  thing  but  this  Frenchified  soup." 

"  Bouillon,"  suggested  the  other. 

"  Yes  ;  that  is  what  she  calls  it.  For  my  part  I  do  not 
believe  it  is  a  bit  better  than  good  old  honest  broth, 
there  !  and  she  will  sit  and  laugh  and  talk  with  him  for 
an  hour  together,  then  turn  right  round  and  play  the 
agreeable  to  old  Deacon  Knapp.  So  that  the  old  fool  sits 
and  gazes  at  her  for  an  hour  at  a  time." 

"  Ton  my  word,  Mrs.  Spencer,  I  did  not  give  you  credit 
for  so  much  humor.  I  sincerely  trust  your  observations 
have  not  stopped  here." 

"Oh,  your  turn  will  come,"  said  the  lady,  pleased  with 
the  compliment.  "  After  she's  got  through  with  the  Dea- 
con she  tries  her  hand  at  young  Griswold,  who  is  always 
coming  here  to  see  the  Doctor,  as  he  says.  But  he's 


266  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

got  only  one  more  day's  leave,  so  he's  safe.  Would 
you  believe  it,"  continued  the  lady,  laying  her  hand 
on  Mr.  Hamilton's  arm  to  make  the  remark  more  im- 
pressive, "  it  was  only  yesterday  I  found  her  singing  a 
Scotch  song  to  our  Sam.  You  know  the  little  nigger  boy 
who  has  taken  Eph's.  place  to  do  the  odd  chores.  And 
there  he  stood  grinning  with  delight  until  I  thought  his 
eyes  would  start  out  of  his  head.  Now  don't  tell  me  she 
is  not  a  flirt,  and  to  try  the  Doctor  too  !  " 

"  My  dear  madam,"  said  Mr.  Hamilton,  endeavoring 
to  restrain  the  evidences  of  his  amusement,  "  do  you  not 
think  you  are  unnecessarily  severe  on  a  very  charming 
woman  ?  You  must  remember,  Mrs.  Spencer,  the  great  dif- 
ference there  is  in  the  usages  of  the  society  in  which  she 
has  moved  to  ours." 

"  I  don't  think,  Mr.  Hamilton,  that  I  am  unaccustomed 
to  the  usages  of  polite  society." 

"  Far  be  it  from  me,  my  dear  madam,  to  insinuate  such 
a  thing.  But  you  will  allow  me  to  remind  you  how  aston- 
ished you  were  at  the  description  which  I  was  able  to  give, 
on  my  return,  from  the  short  visit  I  made  to  England,  of 
the  wealth,  frivolity  and  dissipation  of  their  upper  classes. 
I,  of  course,  mean  those  only  to  whom  society  is  all  in 
all." 

"  Of  course,  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  make  all  due  allowance. 
I  remember  well  how  charming  all  your  descriptions  were. 
But  I  am  sure  in  no  society  would  manners  like  hers  meet 
with  general  approval." 

"  I  have  watched  her  most  attentively,"  said  the  other, 
"  and  I  can  see  nothing  more  than  the  pretty  ways  of  a 
pretty  woman." 


A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE.  267 

"  Pretty  woman  !  there  it  is  again,"  replied  Mrs.  Spen- 
cer scornfully.  "  You  were  at  Major  Baylies'  the  other 
evening.  Now,  the  Major  comes  of  a  good  old  Connecti- 
cut family.  A  family  that's  got  a  right  to  hold  up  its  head 
as  high  as  any  in  the  Union.  It  is  a  great  pity,  as  the 
Doctor  says,  he  should  have  turned  Democrat  for  the  sake 
of  the  post-office.  But  that  has  nothing  to  do  with  what  I 
was  saying.  The  chit  of  a  girl,  for  she  is  but  a  girl  after 
after  all,  sails  into  the  room,  as  if  it  all  belonged  to  her. 
In  one  moment  every  man  was  doing  something  for  her. 
Deacon  Knapp,  acting  like  the  old  fool  he  is,  Young 
Griswold,  his  eyes  starting  out  of  his  head,  and  looking 
as  if  he  had  never  been  in  a  parlor  before.  He's 
been  abroad  too,  and  ought  to  know  something  of  society, 
although  he  did  spend  most  of  his  time  in  a  French  prison 
while  he  was  there.  And  you — you,  who  ought  to  know 
something  of  the  world — you,  who  have  been  a  senator, 
and  are  the  leading  man  of  your  State — I  noticed  you 
were  excessively  attentive  in  handing  her  a  chair.  I  ver- 
rily  believe  if  Sam  had  been  there  she  would  have  had  him 
doing  something,  and  would  have  smiled  upon  him  just  the 
same  as  she  did  on  the  rest  of  you." 

Mr.  Hamilton  got  up  from  his  chair  and  walked  to  the 
window.  It  was  impossible  for  him  to  retain  any  appear- 
ance of  gravity,  the  picture  was  so  true  to  nature.  Grave, 
severe  man  of  the  world  as  he  was,  the  admired  orator,  the 
stern  statesman,  that  one  evening  came  back  to  him.  He 
had  made  one  or  two  remarks  to  Lucy  Quincey,  as  he 
brought  her  some  refreshment  from  the  dining-room  into 
the  parlor  where  she  resolutely  kept  her  seat.  Well,  take 
it  as  a  whole,  he  trusted  she  did  not  remember  them. 


268  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

He  fervently  prayed  Mrs.  Spencer's  sharp  ears  had  not 
overheard  them.  He  hesitated  a  moment  as  he  said — 

"  Mrs.  Spencer,  you  were  speaking  when  I  first  came  in 
of  Sibyl's  health.  Are  you  seriously  alarmed  about  her?" 

"  Oh  yes,  Sibyl.  There  now,  that  is  just  the  thing  I 
wished  to  talk  to  you  about,  and  this  chatter  about  Lucy 
put  it  out  of  my  head.  Seriously  alarmed,  no,  but  I  do  not 
understand  the  child.  She  talks  in  a  way  that  completely 
puts  me  at  my  wit's  end." 

"  How  so.     Please  explain  ?  " 

"  You  know,  Mr.  Hamilton,  Sibyl  has  always  been  a 
dreamy  character.  As  a  girl,  she  would  walk  round  as  if 
she  were  in  a  maze.  Then  she  has  studied  every  thing 
with  the  Doctor  until  she  is  more  like  a  man  than  a  young 
girl.  I  don't  believe  she  can  make  a  pudding,  and  when 
she  is  married  how  she  is  ever,  if  she  goes  to  live  in  New 
York,  to  lay  by  her  winter's  preserves,  without  me,  is  a 
mystery.  And  she's  going  to  marry  a  poor  man,  too. 
Dear  me,  dear  me.  It  is  all  very  well  to  read  Latin  and 
Greek  and  all  that,  but  you  men  value  a  good  cook  more 
in  the  long  run,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Yes,  yes,  my  dear  madam,"  interrupted  the  other,  his 
impatience  showing  itself,  despite  his  habitual  punctilious- 
ness of  manner.  "  Do  come  to  the  point.  What  is  the 
matter  with  Sibyl  ?  " 

Mrs.  Spencer  stared  at  him  in  wonder.  In  an  ac- 
quaintance of  thirty  years  she  had  never  before  heard  Mr. 
Hamilton's  voice  change  in  its  low  tone  of  deference  when 
speaking  to  a  woman. 

"  Lor',  Mr.  Hamilton,  how  you  start  a  body.  Where 
was  I.  Oh,  Sibyl,  more  dreamy  than  ever.  Now  she's 


A  WOMAN'S  ESTIMATE.  269 

always  playing  on  that  piano.  I  love  a  nice  lively  tune 
very  well  myself,  and  on  the  evening  before  the  Lord's 
day,  some  solemn  quiet  psalm.  That  will  fit  your  soul  for 
the  duties  of  the  sanctuary.  This  plaguey  Lucy  has  taught 
her  a  lot  of  German — what  do  you  call  them  ?  " 

"  Symphonies." 

"  Yes,  symphonies,  and  then  she  will  sit  by  the  hour, 
drum,  drum,  drum,  then  trill,  then  a  little  run,  then  it  com- 
mences over  again.  She  says  it  speaks  to  her  the  lessons 
of  the  heart.  Now,  I  notice  that  Lucy  gets  her  lessons  a 
great  deal  quicker  than  Sibyl  does.  What  does  it  mean, 
Mr.  Hamilton  ?  It's  beyond  my  poor  wits.  You  ought  to 
know — you  know  every  thing." 

The  poor  old  lady's  eyes  filled  with  tears  as  she  looked 
up  imploringly,  seeing  an  evil,  but  helpless  to  probe  the 
deep,  sensitive  nature  of  her  child. 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Spencer,  my  old  friendship  for  your 
family  has  made  me  more  than  ordinarily  attentive  to  the 
character  and  mental  qualifications  of  your  daughter. 
Sibyl  is  of  an  extraordinarily  delicate  and  sensitive  organi- 
zation. In  being  separated  from  the  playmate  of  her 
childhood,  as  well  as  the  lover  of  her  youth,  her  nervous 
system  has  received  a  shock.  The  constant  state  of  ex- 
citement and  anxiety,  the  fearful  idea  which  hovers  over 
her,  that  at  any  moment  hope  may  be  gone  for  ever,  has 
made  her  brood  in  silence  rather  than  seek,  as  many  women 
would  do." 

"  I  am  sure  if  Sibyl  has  a  hard  fate"  interrupted 
her  mother,  "  what  have  I !  Haven't  I  seen  her  father 
dying  before  my  eyes  by  inches,  as  it  were !  Don't  I  love 
that  boy  as  if  he  were  my  own  son  !  Have  I  missed  one 


27O  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

of  my  duties  !  Does  not  the  house  go  on  just  as  it  used 
to !  Is  not  there  enough  to  eat !  And  is  not  my  heart  on 
the  point  of  breaking !  " 

Sobs  choked  her  voice.  No  one  felt  more  acutely  for 
another  than  Mr.  Hamilton  did  for  his  old  friend.  But 
there  was  something  indescribably  ridiculous  in  this  ming- 
ling of  shrewdness  and  simplicity,  strong  common  sense 
and  the  little  jealousies  of  a  woman. 

"  My  dear  madam,"  he  said,  taking  her  hand  kindly, 
"  cheer  up.  The  Doctor  now  seems  as  if  he  had  taken  a 
new  lease  of  life,  and  as  for — as  for — Sibyl,  change  of 
scene  and  air  is  what  she  requires.  I  will  try  and  see  if 
I  cannot  induce  these  two  girls  to  make  a  little  trip  with 
me.  You  won't  be  afraid  to  trust  them  under  rriy  charge 
for  a  day  or  two  ? " 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Hamilton  !  why  should  we.  You  who  feel 
like  a  father  towards  our  girl."  She  stopped  suddenly. 
The  remembrance  of  the  hopes  she  had  formed,  the  one 
vision  of  her  daughter's  life  she  had  pictured.  Deeply 
anxious  not  to  wound,  she  only  made  things  worse  by 
stammering  out — 

"  I  mean  you  who  are  old  enough  to  be  her  father,  you 
know." 

Again  she  checked  herself.  Mr.  Hamilton's  face  had 
flushed  deeply.  He  turned  away  for  a  moment.  It  was 
but  a  moment.  When  he  spoke  his  voice  was,  if  anything, 
more  gentle,  more  soft  than  usual.  Mrs.  Spencer's  quick 
ear  distinguished  the  deep  sadness  which  the  accomplished 
gentleman  sought  to  hide,  true  to  the  faith  which  was  in 
him. 

"  Mrs.  Spencer,  the  human  heart  is  an  anomaly  which 


A    WOMAN  S    ESTIMATE, 

defies  the  inspection  of  the  profoundest  philosophers. 
Two  years  since,  led  away  by  a  passion  I  could  not  re- 
strain, I  spoke  words  of  love — in  short  I  offered  my  heart 
and  hand  to  Sibyl." 

"Oh,  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  never  knew,  I  never  thought — 
Sibyl  never  said — " 

"  Naturally,  my  dear  madam.  To  such  a  character, 
so  perfect,  so  pure,  the  idea  of  giving  pain  is  simply  im- 
possible. When  in  the  kindest,  most  loving  way  she  show- 
ed me  I  never  could  be  any  thing  to  her  but  her  father's 
dearest,  oldest  friend,  I  asked  that  place,  and  as  God  is 
my  judge,  Arthur  Hamilton  will  be  true  to  his  plighted 
word. 


CHAPTER  XXV. 


UNDER   THE   ELMS. 

"  Pray  heaven  for  a  human  heart, 
And  let  the  foolish  yeoman  go." 

TENNYSON. 

R.  HAMILTON  had  seen,  while  standing  by  the 
window,  the  two  persons  who  had  formed  the 
subject  of  their  conversation.  The  old  elm 
trees,  which  fringed  the  church-yard,  threw  a 
shade  which,  even  in  the  hottest  noonday,  made  this  side 
of  the  house  attractive.  Mr.  Hamilton  recalled  how,  even 
as  a  child,  Sibyl  had  loved  to  make  this  spot  her  play- 
ground. To  her  the  presence  of  the  tombstones,  marking 
as  they  did  the  spot  "  where  the  rude  forefathers  of  the 
hamlet  slept,"  had  no  terrors. 

As  he  stood  and  watched  her  from  the  open  window, 
he  was  struck  with  the  change  which  a  year  had  wrought. 
Her  form  had  lost  its  roundness.  Graceful  she  always  would 
be,  but  there  was  an  air  of  languor  in  her  movements,  and 
her  face  had  no  longer  the  fresh  look  of  health  and  youth. 
With  a  sigh  of  pain  Mr.  Hamilton  turned  from  the  window, 
determined  to  join  the  two  women.  As  he  came  near  he 
was  still  more  struck  with  the  change  in  Sibyl's  appearance. 
(272) 


UNDER   THE    ELMS.  273 

Her  large,  soft  eyes  were  dreamy  in  their  expression,  her 
face  was  pale  and  drawn,  and  on  either  cheek  was  a  small 
bright  red  spot.  Ah,  how  well  he  knew  the  sign  !  The 
curse  of  New  England,  consumption,  had  seized  her  for  its 

Prey- 
Softly,  and  with  the  gentle  manner  which  in  its  utter 

absence  of  coquetting  made  it  irresistible,  she  held  out  her 
hand.  The  strong  man  actually  shuddered  as  he  noticed 
the  transparency  of  the  slender  fingers  which  for  a  moment 
lay  passive  in  his  grasp.  Forcing  himself  to  put  on  an 
air  of  half  gallantry,  which  for  the  moment  sat  unaturally 
on  him,  he  said — 

"  I  am  come  as  an  ambassador,  or  rather  I  should  per- 
haps say,  as  a  suppliant,  to  solicit  a  boon  from  the  ladies 
of  my  love." 

Lucy  Quincey's  merry  laugh  rang  out  clear  as  a  bird's, 
as  throwing  back  her  head  with  a  mock  heroic  air,  she 
asked — 

"  Offer  a  divided  allegiance.  '  Under  which  king,  Ben- 
zoin. Speak  or  die. ' ' 

Mr.  Hamilton  stole  a  look  at  Sibyl.  Her  face  had 
brightened  a  little  at  the  merry  laugh  and  mimic  action  of 
her  friend.  Her  eye  met  his,  quietly,  kindly  as  of  old,  but 
there  was  no  spark  of  coquetry  there.  He  was  her  father's 
friend  and  her  own.  What  would  he  not  have  given  to 
have  seen  but  the  faintest  shade  cross  that  pale  soft  cheek 
at  the  gay  badinage  of  her  friend. 

"  Age  has  but  few  privileges,  my  dear  young  lady,"  he 
answered,  resuming  the  calm  courtly  manner  which  sat  so 
well  on  him.  "  But  among  the  few  it  possesses,  the  one  I 
most  highly  value  is  the  right  to  love  respectfully  every 

18 


274  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

young  woman,  particularly  when  it  is  united,"  and  he  held 
out  his  hand  to  Sibyl,  "  with  almost  the  claim  of  a  father." 

Lucy  did  not  answer.  Her  face  flushed  a  little,  and 
she  shot  one  glance  under  the  long  lashes  which  fringed  her 
eyes.  It  was  a  look  at  which  many  a  man  would  have 
thrilled. 

Arthur  Hamilton  was  mortal.  For  one  short  moment 
he  had  forgotten  his  fifty  odd  years,  his  well-earned  honors, 
his  proud  position.  The  nameless  spell  a  woman  weaves, 
the  sorcery  of  her  presence,  the  subtile  intoxication  which 
the  very  air  we  breathe  with  her  carries  with  it,  had  swept 
away  the  barriers  and  made  him  forget  himself.  It  was 
only  for  a  moment.  The  glance  passed  harmless  by,  and 
Lucy  felt  that  now,  at  least,  her  power  was  gone.  She 
colored  still  more,  and  with  rather  an  embarrassed  air, 
said — 

"  As  we  both  belong  to  the  Reformed,  or  I  should  say, 
Protesting  faith,  Mr.  Hamilton,  your  fatherly  feelings  can 
have  nothing  to  do  with  our  woman  secrets.  What  then 
is  this  boon  you  crave  ?  " 

"  Simply  this.  Sibyl,  for  two  years  or  more,  has  been 
shut  up  in  this  little  country  town.  I  have  proposed  to  her 
mother,  now  that  her  father  has  so  far  recovered  as  to  be 
safely  trusted  to  Mrs.  Spencer's  nursing  alone,  that  you 
two  ladies  should  pay  me  a  visit  of  a  week  or  more  in  New 
Haven.  There  is  but  little  to  offer  in  the  way  of  gayety, 
but  it  will  be  a  change,  and  perhaps  bring  back  the  bright 
look  your  face  used  to  wear,  Sibyl." 

"  You  are  very  kind,  Mr.  Hamilton.  A  change  will 
amuse  Lucy,  even  if  it  be  to  so  provincial  a  town  as  New 
Haven.  As  for  me,  I  do  not  feel  as  I  formerly  did.  There 


UNDER   THE    ELMS.  275 

is  a  load  here — she  placed  her  hand  on  her  heart  as  she 
spoke — which  I  cannot  shake  off.  Perhaps  a  change  may 
break  the  spell." 

The  "arrangements  for  the  little  trip  were  soon  made, 
and  as  they  turned  to  enter  the  house  they  met  Deacon 
Knapp  coming  out  of  the  door  There  was  an  embarrassed, 
and  at  the  same  time  an  almost  dogged  look  on  his  rugged 
features,  which  struck  Mrs.  Quincey  forcibly.  He  was 
dressed  with  unusual  care,  and  it  was  evident  he  had  made 
up  his  mind  to  take  a  decided  stand  on  some  subject  which 
had  troubled  him  deeply. 

Lucy  colored  violently  as  she  saw  the  deacon,  caused 
as  much  by  the  slight  smile  which  ran  over  the  features  of 
both  her  companions.  It  was  not  in  her  nature,  however, 
to  resist  an  appeal  to  sentiment,  even  when  it  came  in  the 
person  of  a  rough,  middle-aged  New  England  farmer.  Her 
eyelids  dropped  a  little  and  her  face  took  on  the  soft  air 
peculiar  to  her,  as  she  held  out  her  hand  and  wished  the 
old  man  good  morning. 

"  Morning  marm.  Your  sarvant,  Mr.  Hamilton.  Sibyl, 
child,  you  looked  peaked  this  morning.  I  have  got 
no  news  for  you  to-day.  This  ain't  post  day,  you  re- 
member." 

"  You  are  ever  welcome,  Deacon,  as  you  know.  Doubly 
so,  when  kindness  to  the  sick  and  suffering  only  prompts 
your  visits.  Have  you  seen  my  father  yet  ?  " 

"  I  ain't  going  to  take  credit  to  myself  when  credit 
ain't  disarved,  Sibyl.  It  wasn't  to  see  the  Doctor,  nor  you, 
nor  even  your  mar,  what  brought  me  here  this  morning." 

He  paused,  holding  the  hand  which  Lucy  had  extended 
firmly  in  his  grasp.  Mr.  Hamilton,  feeling  keenly  the  em- 


276  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

barrassment  of  the  situation,  moved  carelessly  from  the 
group  and  entered  the  house.  The  Deacon  looked  after 
him  in  silence  until  his  form  had  disappeared,  and  then 
said — 

"  I  have  fit  agin  this  feeling,  Sibyl,  until  I  can  fight  no 
longer.  I  want  to  ask  this  lady  a  plain  question,  to  which 
I  hope  she'll  give  as  plain  an  answer.  There  is  no  better 
time  than  the  present.  Might  I  ask  the  favor  of  your 
leaving  us  a  spell  ? " 

There  was  nothing  for  Sibyl  to  do  but  to  assent.  Dis- 
regarding Lucy's  pleading  look  and  muttered  objection, 
Sibyl  in  her  turn  followed  Mr.  Hamilton  into  the  house. 
The  two  stood  alone  in  the  bright,  clear  sunshine. 

Lucy  by  this  time  had  disengaged  her  hand,  and  draw- 
ing somewhat  back,  made  a  motion  as  if  to  shield  her  eyes 
from  the  sun,  saying — 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Knapp,  why  are  you  so  stern  to  me.  Why 
do  you  speak  to  me  in  such  a  tone  and  before  such  a  man 
as  Mr.  Hamilton." 

She  was  ready  to  fly  at  once  to  a  woman's  never- 
failing  resource,  tears ;  she  had  gone  too  far,  and,  keenly 
alive  to  the  blame  of  others,  she  shrank  under  the  slight 
sarcastic  smile  which  she  saw  curl  the  lip  of  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton as  he  left  them. 

"  It  is  of  no  use,"  said  the  Deacon,  dropping  the  vul- 
garity which  generally  pervaded  his  speech,  and  speaking 
in  .strong,  manly  English,  although  still  with  the  accent 
peculiar  to  New  England.  "  It  is  of  no  use,  Mrs.  Quincey, 
trying  to  fight  against  destiny.  Will  you  seat  yourself  on 
this  bench.  My  say  will  soon  be  said." 

There  was  no  escape,  and  Lucy  almost  sank  on  the 


UNDER   THE    ELMS.  277 

bench  under  the  big  elm  tree,  bitterly  regretting  the  silly 
vanity  which  had  made  her  play  with  the  rough,  strong 
nature  of  the  man  who  stood  before  her. 

"  Mrs.  Quincey,  ma'am,  You  have  been  living  amongst 
us  going  on  now  five  months  and  better.  You  came  down 
here  in  distress  and  affliction.  The  story  which  came 
with  you,  said  you  had  been  an  injured  and  persecuted 
woman  ;  that  you  were  alone  in  the  world  ;  that  you  had 
to  fight,  and  strain,  and  toil  for  the  bread  you  needed  to 
sustain  life.  And  you  told  me  the  last  time  you  and  I 
talked  together  that  you  never  expected,  even  in  your 
dreams,  to  cross  the  ocean  again,  but  that  this  land  was  to 
be  your  land  and  this  people  your  people  as  long  as  you 
lived.  Am  I  right  so  far  ?  " 

Lucy  fairly  gasped  as  she  uttered  the  one  word  "Yes." 
What  was  she  to  do  !  What  strange  power  was  the  rough 
old  country  farmer  about  to  exercise  over  her  ! 

"  Then  I  have  come  to  ask  you  in  plain  words  to  be 
my  wife." 

"  Mr.  Knapp,  oh  no,  that  cannot  be.  Not  such  a  woman 
as  I  am." 

"  Stop  marm.  Hear  me  through  and  then  you  can  give 
me  you  my  answer.  I  am  a  plain  country  farmer  I  know. 
I  am  sixty-three  years  old  come  next  September,  and  I  am 
well  off  in  this  world's  goods.  My  first  wife  has  been  dead 
these  twenty  years,  and  it's  the  thought  of  her  that's  kept 
me  back  ffom  saying  these  words  for  many  a  day.  Still, 
nature  has  been  too  strong  for  me,  and  now  they  are 
spoken." 

"  Please,  please,  Mr.  Knapp,"  said  Lucy  interrupting 
him,  "  do  not  say  any  thing  more.  You  certainly  do  not 


278  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

want  to  wound  and  pain  me.  Surely,  surely  I  do  not  de- 
serve this  at  your  hands." 

Her  coquetry  was  all  gone  now  ;  bitterly  mortified, 
her  eyes  full  of  real  tears,  she  extended  her  hands  in  sup- 
plication towards  the  stern  old  man,  who  stood  almost  as 
a  judge  before  her. 

"I  know  it — I  know  it!  There  is  no  fool,  as  Hamilton 
said  one  day,  like  an  old  fool.  Pain  you.  Well  I'm  not  sartin 
that  a  little  pain  would  not  do  you  good.  Sally,  my  darter, 
said  this  morning  when  we  talked  this  over,  that  although 
I  had  every  right  to  seek  my  happiness  in  my  own  way,  so 
long  as  they  were  Christian  ways,  that  I  was  running  to 
destruction.  She  had  read  you,  and  so  had  I  for  that  mat- 
ter. But  I  was  blinded,  dazed  like,  by  what  I  had  never 
seen  before." 

Lucy  strove  to  rise  from  the  bench  on  which  she  sat. 
Her  eyes  were  now  sparkling  with  anger,but  the  old  Deacon, 
whose  strong  character  had  broken  through  all  ordinary 
restraint,  placed  his  hand  on  her  shoulder  and  absolutely 
forced  her  to  resume 'her  seat. 

"  Sir,"  said  Lucy,  now  frightened  as  well  as  angry,  "  do 
you  mean  to  hurt  me  ?  " 

"  Hurt  you,"  said  the  grim  old  Puritan,  looking  down 
on  her,  "  no  ;  we  don't  hurt  women  in  this  land,  not  as  yet. 
You  have  given  me  a  right  to  speak  and  speak  I  am  going 
to,  if  it  be  but  to  testify  to  my  own  shame." 

"  Surely,  Mr.  Knapp,  there  can  be  no  necessity  for  this 
violence  of  feeling.  No  person  need  ever  know  what  has 
occurred.  We  can  still  be  friends.  I  am  so  poor  in  friends." 
She  had  extended  her  hand  as  she  spoke,  and  her  eyes 
shone  with  something  of  the  old  light. 


UNDER   THE   ELMS.  279 

The  eyes  of  the  man  hardened  as  he  met  the  look. 

"If  I  have  done  wrong,  Mr.  Knapp  ;  if  my  foolish 
manner  has  led  you  to  believe — you  will  forgive  me  and 
let  me  be  to  you  as  a — " 

"  No,  you  shall  be  nothing  to  me,"  broke  in  the  old 
man.  "  Secret — the  world  can  know  it  all.  Perhaps  it 
may  save  some  other  jackass  from  suffering  as  I  suffer 
now.  Look  at  this — I  tell  you  all  now."  He  pulled  out 
of  his  breast  a  withered  flower  and  held  it  towards  her  as  he 
went  on,  "Four  days  ago  you  had  this  posy  in  your  hair. 
You  gave  a  flower  to  that  young  minister  who  has  taken 
the  Doctor's  place,  since  he's  been  took  ill.  You  gave  it 
to  him  from  the  bunch  in  your  hand.  But  for  me,  you 
took  the  one  in  your  hair.  You  gave  it  with  a  look — such 
a  look,  marm,  as  a  woman  ought  not  to  give  but  to  one 
man.  Do  you  remember  the  scene  ?  " 

Lucy  was  completely  cowed.  Never  before  had  any 
flirtation  resulted  in  more  than  momentary  pain.  She 
could  only  sit  and  gaze  at  this  strange  man. 

"  How  my  hand  trembled  as  it  touched  yours,  and  how 
I  clenched  it  strongly  lest  some  one  should  rob  me  of  my 
treasure.  Old  idiot  that  I  was,  I  absolutely  kissed  that 
flower  when  I  was  alone.  I,  who  for  twenty  years  had 
never  felt  my  blood  thrill  at  a  woman's  look,  felt  a  cold 
shiver  run  through  me  as  I  met  that  look  of  yours.  Poor 
little  flower.  Pshaw  !  "  And  the  Deacon  threw  the  rose 
bud  on  the  ground  and  stamped  on  it  with  his  heel. 
"  There  madam,  your  sarvant,  I  have  said  my  say." 

Deacon  Knapp  turned  without  a  word  more  and  walked 
firmly  to  the  garden  gate.  Without  looking  to  the  right  hand 
or  to  the  left,  he  walked  slowly  down  the  street.  It 


28O  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

was  almost  noon,  and  few  of  the  inhabitants  were  to  be 
seen.  It  was  a  relief  that  he  was  alone.  He  was  ashamed 
at  his  violence,  and  dreaded  the  explanation  which  must 
come  when  he  met  his  daughter.  He  had  broken  the  chain 
which  had  bound  him.  The  old  feeling  of  love  of  reverence 
for  her  that  was  gone  was  creeping  back  into  his  heart. 
He  thought  of  the  empty  chair.  Would  he  have  been  con- 
tent another  should  fill  it.  She  was  sleeping  now  within 
a  hundred  feet  of  where  he  had  asked  that  stranger — about 
whom  he  absolutely  knew  nothing,  a  mere  girl  compared 
to  him  in  years,  younger  than  his  own  daughter — to  be  his 
wife.  He  stood  still  to  stamp  his  foot  in  impotent  rage 
at  his  own  folly.  Then  there  came  back  to  him  the  mem- 
ory of  an  hour.  It  seemed  almost  yesterday  in  its  vivid- 
ness. By  heavens !  the  scene  had  taken  place  on  the  very 
spot  where  he  had  left  that  woman  seated.  It  was  a  com- 
mon enough  occurrence.  A  blue-eyed,  fair  haired  Con- 
necticut girl,  with  rosy  cheeks  and  teeth  like  pearl.  She 
was  leaning  against  that  very  elm  tree.  How  the  tree  had 
grown  since  then.  She  was  pulling  the  petals  from  a  daisy. 
How  sweet  her  voice  was  !  "  One  I  love,  two  I  love,  three 
I  love,  I  say."  What  nonsense  boys  and  girls  talk,  when 
looked  at  by  the  experience  of  age  and  wordly  wisdom. 
Had  he  not  ground  to  powder  under  his  heel  another 
flower,  given  by  another  woman.  His  cheeks  burned  like 
fire.  How  hot  the  day  was  ! 

Sally  sat  there  in  the  kitchen  window  sewing  on 
some  of  those  everlasting  things  that  babies  wear.  The 
little  fellow  kicking  up  his  heels  and  showing  his  chubby 
little  red  legs  as  he  lay  on  his  back  on  the  old  sheepskin 
on  the  sanded  floor. 


UNDER   THE    ELMS.  28 1 

The  deacon  had  hung  his  hat  in  the  passage-way.  He 
glanced  round  the  room  and  saw  he  was  alone  with  his 
child.  He  dragged  a  chair  close  up  to  her  and  said — 

"  Sally,  you  can  call  your  old  daddy  a  fool  if  you  mind 
to,  and  he'll  take  it  kindly." 

The  woman  glanced  at  him.  She  saw  it  all.  She  need- 
ed no  explanation.  Softly  she  put  her  hand  in  his — the 
action  spoke  more  than  words. 

"  Sally,  I  used  in  my  conceit  to  reckon  myself  a  leader 
in  Israel.  I  called  myself  one  of  the  elect.  I  was  as 
strong  as  Samson,  yet  I  found  a  Delilah.  But,  Sally,  she 
came  back  to  me.  Your  mother,  I  mean,  girl,  as  I  was  walk- 
ing out  there  in  the  glare  of  the  hot  sunshine.  I  saw  her  ; 
she  looked  as  fresh  and  younger,  girl,  than  you  do  now.  I 
have  sinned,  Sally,  in  that  I  went  after  a  strange  woman 
from  a  strange  land,  and  I  left  the  wife  of  my  youth,  the 
mother  of  my  children,  for  a  girl  who  laughed  at  and  despised 
me.  Sarves  me  right.  You  are  mistress  here,  girl,  until  I 
die." 

He  got  up  and  walked  to  the  door,  then  turning  a 
sheepish,  penitent  look  on  his  daughter,  said — 

"  I  am  going  to  put  the  picture  back  over  my  bed.  I 
took  it  down  yesterday.  It  was  only  one  night.  She  will 
forgive  it,  won't  she  ?  She  was  just  like  you." 

The  daughter  could  only  nod  through  her  tears. 

From  that  day  to  the  day  of  his  death  the  subject  was 
never  again  mentioned  between  them. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


THE   VISION. 

"  of  Nature's  laws 
So  strong  I  held  the  force. 
That  never  superhuman  cause 
Could  e'er  control  their  course," 

SCOTT. 

UCY  QUINCEY  crept  rather  than  walked  into 
the  house.  She  had  never  before  been  subjected 
to  such  an  ordeal.  The  victims  of  her  leisure 
hours  had  heretofore  condoned  her  offences 
with  at  least  smiling  faces.  The  wounds  she  had  inflicted 
may  have  remained  green  and  sore  for  years.  She  had 
not  felt  them,  and  she  carelessly  turned  to  new  conquests. 
But  on  this  occasion  it  was  widely  different.  A  rough, 
rude,  but  eminently  masculine  character  had  been  played 
with,  courted,  had  been  tempted  by  a  thousand  little  arts 
to  break  through  the  habits  of  a  life,  to  forget  the  past,  to 
breathe  only  the  intoxication  of  the  present. 

Lucy  for  the  moment  absolutely  trembled  at  the  con- 
sequence of  her  folly.  The  usual  excuse  of  a  headache,  left 
her  untroubled  in  her  own  room  during  the  remainder  of 
the  day.  When  she  joined  the  family  in  the  evening  she 
fondly  hoped  it  had  been  forgotten.  She  certainly  tried  to 
forget  her  share  in  the  transaction. 

Dr.  Spencer,  whose  illness  had  thrown  him  back  into 
himself,  compelling  him  to  abandon  study  and  to  depend 
(282) 


THE    VISION.  283 

more  upon  the  society  of  his  family  and  friends  for  his 
pleasures,  was  seated  near  the  open  window,  his  thin  hand 
resting  lovingly  on  Sibyl's  curls.  She  had  drawn  a  foot- 
stool close  to  his  side,  and  was  lightly  resting  her  head  on 
his  knee.  Mrs.  Spencer  and  Mr.  Hamilton  made  up  the 
little  party. 

Lucy  glided  into  the  room.  Her  advent  was  unnoticed 
by  any  of  them  except  by  the  Doctor,  who  smiled  on  her 
as  kindly  as  usual. 

The  conversation  had  been  kept  up  principally  by  the 
two  men,  and  had  turned  on  the  essential  principle  of  the 
soul,  as  stated  by  Swedenborg. 

"There  is  no  new  creed,  Mr.  Hamilton,"  said  the  old 
clergyman.  "  The  questions  as  to  the  immortality  of  the 
soul  have  differed  but  slightly  since  the  days  of  Plato. 
The  appearance  of  new  prophets,  men  who  claim  to  be 
gifted  with  supernatural  powers,  to  read  and  foretell  fate,  to 
gaze  into  the  depths  of  the  starry  heavens,  and  draw  lessons 
from  the  '  planets  in  their  turn,'  is  as  old  as  when  the 
stern  old  prophet  of  Israel  slew  the  priests  of  Baal  on 
Mount  Carmel  in  the  wilderness." 

"  But,  Doctor  Spencer,  does  not  the  unaffected  purity  of 
Swedenborg,  his  gentleness  of  disposition,  the  shrinking  and 
retiring  nature  of  his  character,  relieve  him  in  your  mind 
from  the  accusation  of  imposture  ?" 

"  I  do  not  think  any  one  who  studies  that  singular  man's 
life  can  fail  to  be  fascinated  by  the  qualities  you  have  men- 
tioned. Mr.  Hamilton,  his  was  a  nature  which  feeds  on  itself. 
Left  alone  by  the  very  depth  and  character  of  his  studies, 
poetic,  enthusiastic,  he  dreamed  dreams,  and  thought 
them  realities.  His  teachings  were  all  for  good.  His 


284  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

prophecies  have  disturbed  the  imagination  and  unsettled 
the  belief  of  hundreds." 

"  Do  you  not  believe,  father,  that  there  may  be  some 
subtle  instinct,  some  unknown  sense,  which  may  bring  us 
into  close  companionship  with  those  we  love,  even  if  ab- 
sent from  us  ? " 

"  Sibyl  means,"  said  her  mother,  "just  what  I  have  felt 
since  you  have  been  sick.  I  would  be  down  stairs,  and  the 
time  would  come  for  your  soup  (I  never  can  remember 
that  plaguey  French  word),  and  I  would  find  that  I  was 
thinking  of  you  without  knowing  it !  " 

"  Love,  my  dear,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  with  a  soft 
smile,  as  he  gently  pressed  the  still  plump  hand  which 
had  sought  his,  "  works  miracles.  No,  Sibyl,  I  do  not  be- 
lieve in  what  you  ask." 

"  Are  there  not  an  hundred  instances,  Doctor  Spencer, 
on  record,"  asked  his  friend,  "  in  which  strange  warnings 
and  mysterious  appearances  have  been  seen  and  felt  by 
persons  separated  by  thousands  of  miles  from  the  subject 
of  these  apparitions  ?  " 

"What  actual  testimony  is  there,"  replied  the  other 
warming  with  his  subject — "  testimony  which  will  stand  the 
the  test  of  scientific  criticism — of  the  truth  of  these  state- 
ments. A  man  dies,  in  farther  India  if  you  will,  a  vio- 
lent death,  to  make  the  case  a  strong  one.  The  event  be- 
comes known  to  his  family,  and  then  steps  forward  some 
would-be  soothsayer,  who,  on  the  night  or  day  in  question, 
has  seen  enacted,  in  his  mind's  eye,  the  scene  in  all  its 
horrors." 

"  Why,  father,  must  the  person  speak  falsely  ?  Why  not 
believe  as  well  in  the  truth  as  in  the  falsity  of  human  na- 


THE    VISION.  285 

ture  ?     How  can  any  testimony  be  brought  to  show  that  a 
man  does  not  see  a  vision,  or  dream  a  dream  ?  " 

"  Dreams,  my  child,  are  but  the  overflow  of  a  heated 
imagination.  In  most  instances  of  mental  impressions, 
which  have  been  carefully  studied,  it  has  been  found  that 
the  victim  suffered  or  died  in  the  southern  hemisphere, 
so  that  the  would-be  prophet,  forgetting  the  difference  of 
time,  that  what  is  night  to  us  is  day  to  them,  locates  the 
event  twelve  hours  before  or  after  its  actual  occurrence." 

"  Unless  we  could  realize  '  Puck's  '  boast  and  put  a 
girdle  round  the  earth  in  forty  minutes,"  said  Mr.  Hamil- 
ton, anxious  to  give  the  conversation  a  different  turn,  see- 
ing the  effect  on  Sibyl  in  her  nervous  and  excited  state  of 
mind. 

"  Why  should  we  not — why  should  we  not,  I  say  ?  "  ex- 
claimed the  Doctor,  oblivious  to  every  thing  but  his  in- 
terest in  the  conversation.  "  Do  we  not  draw  from  the 
heavens  the  lightnings  at  our  pleasure,  and  have  we  not 
harnessed  steam  as  with  a  bridle  ?  Who  dare  place  a  lim- 
it to  man's  intelligence,  when  we  know  he  is  formed  in  the 
image  of  his  maker  !  " 

"Then,  father,  it  may  not  be  vain,  perhaps,  to  imagine 
that  round  us  hover  the  spirits  of  those  who  cheered  and 
loved  us  here  on  earth,  that  they  surround  us  in  our  wak- 
ing moments,  and  guard  and  shield  us  in  the  dark  watches 
of  the  night.  That  they  will  be  the  first  to  welcome  us  to 
the  realms  of  bliss."  There  was  a  nervous  excitement 
in  her  manner,  and  a  wildness  in  her  eye  which  startled 
even  the  unobservant  old  man.  He  laid  his  hand  softly 
on  her  head. 

"  Ah,  Sibyl,  my  darling  child,  who  dare  speculate  on 


286  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

what  He  has  kept  concealed  !  Clouds  and  darkness  are 
round  about  him,  righteousness  and  judgment  are  the 
habitation  of  his  throne.  It  is  a  fond,  and  I  trust  not  a 
foolish  conceit,  to  hope  that  we  may  be  allowed  to  wel- 
come into  the  mystical  body  of  his  elect,  those  whom  we 
have  loved  and  travelled  with  here  on  earth.  But  what 
can  poor  human  nature  know  of  the  mysteries  of  which  we 
have  been  speaking  !  There  has  been  but  one  foot  which 
has  ever  retrod  the  dark  valley — our  Example  and  our 
Guide.  Let  us  try  so  to  live  here  on  earth,  that  when  our 
turn  comes,  as  come  it  soon  will,  to  every  child  of  man, 
we  may  fear  no  evil,  for  his  rod  and  his  staff  they  succor  us." 

"Come,  Mrs.  Quincey,  do  play  something  for  us,"  said 
Mr.  Hamilton.  "  This  conversation  has  become  too  mel- 
ancholy. Let  me  hand  you  to  the  piano." 

"  Yes,  Lucy,  a  nice  quiet  psalm  would  do  good  to  our 
spirits.  But  that  won't  put  my  old  man  to  bed.  Come, 
Doctor,  you  are  up  too  late,  we  will  leave  the  young  peo- 
ple to  themselves." 

Mrs.  Spencer  carried  off  the  Doctor.  Sibyl  kissed  her 
father  who  lingered  lovingly  by  her  for  a  few  minutes. 
There  was  one  thing,  however,  in  which  Mrs.  Spencer 
brooked  no  interference,  and  that  was  the  loving  care  she 
directed  to  her  husband.  Sibyl  sat  down  by  the  window  in 
the  chair  her  father  had  occupied,  and  resting  her  cheek  on 
her  hand,  looked  dreamily  into  the  starry  heavens.  The 
soft  July  moon,  almost  at  its  full,  cast  its  light  on  the  old 
trees,  the  little  church,  and  brought  into  relief  the  quaint 
slabs  in  the  old  graveyard.  The  village  was  sunk  into 
the  deepest  repose,  there  was  nothing  to  break  the  still- 
ness of  the  hour,  save  at  long  intervals  the  faint  cry  of  the 


THE    VISION.  287 

whip-poor-will,  far  off  in  the  meadow  by  the  brook.  Sibyl 
heard  nothing,  saw  nothing.  "  Her  eyes  were  with  her 
heart,  and  that  was  far  away."  Lucy  had  changed  the 
rather  brilliant  piece  she  had  been  playing  for  one  better 
suited  to  the  scene  and  hour.  It  was  a  mild,  plaintive  air, 
almost  eastern  in  its  character.  She  possessed  the  rare 
gift  of  being  able  to  play  and  talk  at  the  same  time.  She 
was  a  wonderful  musician,  although  it  was  art,  rather  than 
nature,  that  made  her  so.  Mr.  Hamilton  had  taken  a  chair 
close  by  the  piano,  and  was  looking  at  Sibyl's  clear  cut 
profile  as  it  was  brought  out  in  the  moonlight.  He  was 
not  aware  of  his  abstraction  until  he  was  startled  by  the 
young  Englishwoman's  saying  in  a  low  tone,  which  almost 
mingled  with  the  notes  she  was  playing, 

"  I  have  so  wished  so  speak  to  you  this  evening,  Mr. 
Hamilton.  What  must  y6u  think  of  me,  after  what  you 
saw  to-day  ? " 

"That  you  are  somewhat  reckless  in  the  exercise  of 
a  power  which  most  men,  and  especially  elderly  men,  find 
irresistible,  Mrs.  Quincey." 

The  melody  floated  softly  on  the  air,  perhaps  a  thrill  of 
triumph  escaped  the  finger-tips  of  the  fair  performer. 

"  You  do  not  think,  Mr.  Hamilton,  I  was  obliged  to 
accept  a  man  in  his  position  in  life,  simply  because  he 
asked  me,  do  you  ?  " 

"Certainly  not,  my  dear  madam.  I  am  a  strong  re- 
publican and  an  equally  strong  American,  but  in  my  wild- 
est dreams  I  never  thought  a  middle-agec1  Yankee  farmer 
a  fit  match  for  an  English  beauty." 

"  Then  why  do  you  blame  me  ?  "  she  asked,  after  a 
momentary  pause. 


288  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

"  Blame  you  ?  "  he  said,  "  surely  I  did  not  commence 
this  conversation.  Qui  s'excuse  s'accuse.  Even  my  lim- 
ited knowledge  of  the  world  has  taught  me  that." 

"You  have  no  thought,  nor  look,  nor  dream  uncon- 
nected with  that  beautiful  statue,  sitting  by  the  window 
there.  Hush  !  do  not  answer,"  she  continued,  hastily,  for 
even  in  the  moonlight  she  could  see  the  rising  color.  "  I 
had  a  letter  this  morning,  and  such  a  letter.  I  want  help, 
advice,  and  above  all,  a  friend.  Won't  you  be  my  friend, 
Mr.  Hamilton  ? "  The  accent  was  perfectly  irresistible. 
Confound  the  woman,  what  was  there  about  her  which 
fascinated  you  so  ?  He  had  read  her  perfectly.  Her  su- 
perficial, changeable  nature.  The  utter  impossibility  of 
any  deep  or  lasting  feeling,  and  yet  it  only  required  an  in- 
flection of  the  voice,  an  appeal  to  his  superiority,  and  it 
was  a  favor  to  be  allowed  to  serve  her — whether  it  was 
the  holding  of  a  fan  or  the  sacrifice  of  half  one's  fortune. 

Lucy's  quick  wit  took  it  all  in,  and  she  continued  with- 
out waiting  for  an  answer. 

"  I  have  told  Sibyl  my  sad  story,  so  of  course  you 
know  it  well.  This  morning  brought  me  a  letter  from 
Charles,  Mr.  Harcourt,  I  mean.  He  is  about  to  return  to 

England.  His  uncle  is  dead.  He  is  now  Earl  of . 

He  wishes  me  to  join  him  at  Montreal  and  return  as  his 
wife!  Can  I?" 

"  Can  you  go  ?  What  a  question  !  You  do  not  sup- 
pose, my  dear  Mrs.  Quincey,  we  are  sunk  so  low  as  to 
make  war  on  women  ?  Let  me  assure  you  at  once,  you  are 
as  free  as  air  ?  " 

"  I  did  not  mean  that  there  were  fetters  on  my  wrists," 
she  answered,  with  a  low  musical  laugh,  "however  the 


THE    VISION.  289 

heart  may  be  bound.  In  my  sorrow,  in  my  widowhood, 
you  all  were  my  friends.  I  was  in  sorrow  and  they  minis- 
tered unto  me,  to  use  the  quaint  language  which  is  so 
much  in  vogue  here.  Seriously  can  you  not  imagine  the 
heart  rests  lovingly  in  that  spot  in  which  alone  rest  has 
been  found.  And  how  will  Charles  feel  for  me  after  the 
vagabond  life  I  have  led  ?  I  have  tortured  myself  with 
this  question  night  and  day." 

"  Permit  me,  my  dear  Mrs.  Quincey.  You  began  this 
conversation.  Mr.  Harcourt  was — how  shall  I  express  it 
— your  earliest  love.  Was  he  not  ? " 

No  answer  could  have  been  given,  with  a  more  infan- 
tile air,  with  more  charming  simplicity,  than  the  one  which 
dropped,  as  it  were,  from  Lucy's  lips. 

"  Oh,  dear,  yes  ;  we  always  looked  on  each  other  just  as 
man  and  wife,  until  the  death  of  his  elder  brother.  Then, 
you  know,  all  was  changed.  They  wanted  him  to  marry 
among  his  degree.  You  understand  ?  " 

"  'Pon  my  word  I  do  not,"  replied  the  other.  "  If  I 
catch  the  drift  of  your  remarks  you  were  affianced  with  the 
consent  of  his  family.  Certainly  they  were  not  base 
enough  to  break  that  engagement,  simply  because  he  be- 
came the  presumptive  heir  to  an  earldom." 

"  That  is  exactly  just  what  I  mean,"  said  she,  changing 
the  light  tone  as  she  did  the  music  she  was  playing  to  one 
of  deep,  serious  earnest.  "  When  Charles  was  nothing 
but  a  younger  son's  younger  son,  poor  Lucy  Bradford  was 
a  match  good  enough  for  him.  But  when  he  became  a 
peer  '  in  futuro,'  she  was  no  longer  more  than  the  dust  un- 
der their  feet." 

There  was  a  deep,  passionate  utterance  in  the  last  sen- 


2QO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

tence,  which  he  had  never  heard.     Before  Mr.  Hamilton 
could  speak  she  went  on. 

"  When  we  met  last  winter  the  old  power  came  over 
me  again — of  his  presence  I  mean.  Under  a  soft  and 
gentle  manner  Charles  has  an  iron  will.  With  him  I  am 
powerless — away  from  him,  I  sometimes  tremble  at  the 
future.  For  five  months  not  one  line  has  Charles  sent  me, 
not  one  question  asked,  nor  one  effort  made  to  find  out 
the  fate  of  the  woman  who  would  have  given  up  fame  and 
name  for  him.  For  the  woman  who  knelt  at  the  feet  of 
that  General  of  yours  to  beg  his  life." 

Mr.  Hamilton  felt  very  uncomfortably  as  this  woman 
went  on.  What  had  he  to  do  with  her  love  passages  !  Yet 
she  was  rarely  beautiful.  The  full  yet  graceful  figure  ; 
the  large,  soft  dark  eyes  ;  the  mouth  perhaps  a  trifle  too 
rich  in  its  coloring.  He  glanced  towards  the  window. 
Sibyl  sat  motionless  as  a  statue,  looking  ghastly  white  as 
the  moonlight  fell  upon  her.  Lucy  saw  the  direction  of 
his  eyes.  The  words  she  uttered  hardly  reached  his  ears, 
so  softly  were  they  spoken.  The  melody  seemed  to  float 
around  him. 

"With  Charles's  letter  there  is  a  pass  from  General 
Brown.  The  moment  is  come,  Mr.  Hamilton,  when  my 
fate  is  to  be  sealed.  Since  I  have  been  here  I  have  felt 
like  a  different  woman.  I  could  make  a  man  very  happy, 
if  I  respected  as  well  as  loved  him." 

What  did  she  mean,  this  siren,  with  her  low  replies, 
with  her  music  sweeter  than  the  harp  of  Orpheus.  She 
could  not  mean  she  loved  him.  He  a  man  twenty-five 
years  her  senior.  Yet  why  should  he  not  possess  all  this 
beauty,  all  these  accomplishments  !  Why  should  he  not  fill 


THE   VISION.  291 

his  heart  and  his  home  !  Was  it  because  one  young  girl 
had  felt  for  him  no  passion  !  Was  it  because  the  love  of 
years  had  struck  no  responsive  chord  in  her  breast,  that 
another  might  not  ? 

It  was  almost  timidly  he  stole  a  look  at  Lucy.  There 
was  a  blush  just  creeping  over  the  velvet  cheek,  the  long 
lashes  veiled  the  glance  in  which,  by  heavens !  he  read  the 
mocking.  He  too,  had  been  made  a  fool  of.  How  well 
he  remembered  the  feeling  of  bitter  contempt  with  which 
he  had  met  poor  old  Knapp  as  he  came  into  the  garden 
that  very  morning ! 

"  Forgive  me,  Mrs.  Quincey,  if  for  one  moment — " 

"  Not  another  word,  Mr.  Hamilton.  '  Qui  s'excuse 
s'accuse,'  I  may  trust  to  your  friendship,"  she  laid,  partic- 
ular emphasis  on  the  last  word,  "  to  provide  me  an  escort 
of  some  kind  to  the  frontier."  She  had  risen  from  the 
piano  as  she  spoke,  and  her  air  and  manner  had  in  it  all 
the  haughtiness  of  a  woman  of  the  world. 

Mr.  Hamilton  choked  down  the  bitter  word  which  rose 
to  his  lips,  and  as  with  a  courteous  bow  he  was  about 
answering  her,  he  was  startled  by  hearing  Lucy  utter  an 
exclamation  of  horror  and  seeing  her  run  to  Sibyl's  side. 
The  girl  had  half  raised  herself  in  her  chair,  one  hand  was 
pressed  against  her  forehead,  while  the  other  was  appar- 
ently waving  away  an  object  which  seemed  to  rise  before 
her  in  the  moonlight.  Her  eyes  were  dilated,  her  whole 
form  was  fixed  and  rigid  except  that  the  chattering  of  her 
teeth  could  be  distinctly  heard.  Lucy  had  passed  her 
arm  round  Sibyl's  slight  form  and  drew  her  to  her  breast, 
as  tenderly  as  a  mother  would  a  frightened  child. 

"  Sibyl,  my  darling,  my  sister,  what  is  it  ?  In  mercy 
tell  us ! " 


SIBYL   SPENCER. 

Mr.  Hamilton  could  only  stand  still  and  look  on  in 
speechless  horror.  The  scene  had  lasted  hardly  twenty 
seconds,  when  with  a  loud  cry  Sibyl  buried  her  face  in  her 
hands  with  a  bitter,  moaning  sound.  "  I  saw  him  fall  ! 
He  is  dead  !  he  is  dead  !  "  Like  some  wounded  bird,  the 
girl  sank  slowly  down,  her  moans  grew  softer  and  softer 
— the  poor  child  had  fainted. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

LUNDY'S  LANE. 

"  And  leaving  in  battle  no  blot  on  his  name, 
Look  proudly  to  Heaven  from  the  death-bed  of  fame." 

CAMPBELL. 

ENERAL  BROWN  determined  to  make  the 
war  an  offensive  one,  and  on  the  third  day  of 
July,  suddenly  threw  a  division  of  his  army 
across  the  Niagara  river  to  the  Canadian  shore. 
Fort  Erie,  one  of  the  strongest  British  posts,  fell  almost 
without  a  shot.  Although  of  the  greatest  advantage  to 
the  Americans,  it  was  but  the  opening  of  the  campaign. 

General  Riall,  the  English  commander,  reinforced  by 
some  of  the  best  veteran  troops  drawn  from  Wellington's 
peninsular  army,  pressed  forward,  to  either  recapture  the 
position,  or  drive  the  American  army  out  of  the  province. 
After  some  days  spent  in  manoeuvring,  they  met  and  fought 
the  battle  of  Chippewa  ;  for  the  numbers  engaged,  the 
most  sanguinary  on  record — each  side  claimed  the  victory 
— each  with  equal  truth. 

The  forces  engaged  were  few  in  numbers,  but  very 
equally  matched,  both  in  character  and  morale.  On  either 
side  they  consisted  of  about  3.500  regulars,  rather  more 
than  that  number  of  militia,  and  six  or  seven  hundred  In- 

(293) 


294  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

dians,  and  the  reinforcements  each  received  made  them 
numerically  equal.  Several  slight  engagements  had  taken 
place,  with  about  equal  advantage,  and  on  the  afternoon 
of  the  25th  of  July  General  Brown  encamped  his  force  al- 
most within  the  circle  of  mist  which  arose  from  the  Niagara 
Falls. 

The  encampment  had  hardly  been  formed,  when  a 
courier  brought  to  the  General  the  intelligence  that  the 
enemy,  in  some  strength,  had  crossed  Niagara  river  to 
the  American  side,  and  were  threatening  his  depot  of 
supplies  at  the  little  village  of  Schlosser. 

Instantly  on  receiving  this  advice,  General  Brown  or- 
dered the  First  Brigade,  under  General  Scott,  to  advance 
down  the  river  and  threaten  the  enemy's  communications 
and  his  posts  on  that  line.  This  movement  was  com- 
menced about  five  o'clock  in  the  afternoon.  The  brigade 
was  set  in  motion  and  had  advanced  but  a  short  distance, 
when  sharp  firing  commenced,  which  soon  became  heavy, 
and  general,  showing  the  British  to  be  in  strong  force. 

"  Ride  forward,  Colonel  Mason,"  said  General  Brown, 
"  and  see  what  that  means.  Tell  Scott,  if  the  enemy  are 
in  force,  to  hold  his  men  well  together,  but  to  press  them 
strongly.  I  will  advance  as  soon  as  practicable  with  the 
main  body.  Thee  must  not  wait  to  do  any  fighting  on 
thy  own  account;  but  bring  me  the  best  intelligence." 

The  evening  had  closed  in  darkly  ;  the  sky  was  covered 
with  fleecy  clouds,  through  which  the  stars  as  yet  shone 
dimly.  Edward  rode  as  fast  as  the  nature  of  the  ground 
and  the  darkness  permitted.  In  a  few  minutes  he  came 
upon  two  or  three  wounded  men,  making  their  way  slowly 
to  the  rear.  Led  by  the  sound  of  rapid  firing,  he  soon 


LUNDY  S    LANE.  295 

came  on  the  rear  of  the  brigade,  drawn  up  in  open  order, 
and  briskly  engaged  with  a  considerable  force,  who  occu- 
pied the  side  of  a  gentle  hill,  the  summit  of  which  was 
crowned  by  a  battery. 

The  darkness  of  evening  was  lit  up  at  short  intervals 
by  the  flash  of  the  artillery,  and  Edward  could  hear  the 
sing  of  the  shot,  followed  by  the  cracking  of  branches,  as 
they  tore  their  way  through  the  little  wood,  on  the  edge  of 
which  the  First  Brigade  was  posted. 

After  giving  his  orders  and  obtaining  all  the  informa- 
tion in  his  power,  Edward  turned  to  rejoin  the  General. 
The  moon,  almost  at  the  full,  had  risen  over  the  highlands 
on  the  east  side  of  the  river,  and  objects  were  brought 
more  and  more  clearly  into  relief  as  he  rode  forward. 

The  noise  his  horse  made  in  blundering  through  one  of 
the  snake  fences,  as  common  in  Canada  as  in  New  York, 
caused  a  small  party  of  horsemen  to  pause  suddenly,  and, 
while  still  endeavoring  to  recover  his  seat  in  the  saddle, 
Edward  stopped  by  the  side  of  the  General. 

The  General  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh  at  the  unwarlike 
advance  of  his  favorite  aid,  and  turning  a  little  off  the  road 
at  the  gap  made  by  Mason,  heard  him  in  silence  until  his 
report  was  finished.  He  then  gave  some  quick  orders  to 
the  two  or  three  young  officers  who  attended  on  him,  which 
they  rode  rapidly  away  to  fulfil. 

Left  alone  with  Edward,  the  General  sat  motionless  on 
his  horse,  the  reins  falling  carelessly  on  the  animal's  neck. 
The  Second  Brigade  filed  past  on  the  road  to  take  the  po- 
sition assigned  to  them. 

Suddenly  the  General  said,  without  turning  his  head, 
his  eyes  still  fixed  on  the  Eastern  sky : 


296  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

"  They  will  say  Riall  caught  us  napping,  Mason.  I 
think  he  has  had  heavy  reinforcements.  Look ! — look, 
Edward,  look,  my  boy  ! — how  lovely,  how  exquisite  !  " 

Following  the  direction  of  the  General's  extended  hand, 
Edward  saw,  spanning  the  entire  falls,  from  the  American 
to  the  Canadian  shore,  the  beautiful  outline  of  the  lunar 
rainbow  —  each  prismatic  color  faintly  but  exquisitely 
painted  in  the  clouds  of  mist. 

The  heavy  firing  seemed  for  the  moment  to  die  away, 
and  they  could  distinguish  the  roar  of  the  mighty  river,  as 
with  "  icy  current  and  compulsive  course "  it  thundered 
down  the  abyss.  As  they  looked  the  colors  grew  fainter 
and  fainter,  and  as  they  died  away  the  general  said : 

"  God's  harbinger  of  peace  to  man.  Who  knows,  Ed- 
ward, it  may  be  but  the  gilded  halo  round  the  soldier's 
grave  ? " 

He  had  advanced  while  speaking  and  joined  the  officer 
commanding  the  column  of  militia  and  volunteers,  which 
had  at  length  moved  forward.  Impressing  his  orders  on 
this  gentleman  by  voice  and  gesture,  General  Brown  turned 
his  horse  and  dashed  after  the  Second  Brigade  at  a  speed 
which  soon  distanced  the  inferior  animal  on  which  Edward 
was  mounted. 

Of  the  remainder  of  that  battle  Edward  remembered 
but  little.  It  seemed  to  him  as  if  it  were  but  one  continu- 
ous flash,  rattle,  and  roar  of  artillery  and  small  arms.  He 
«4W  the  British  general  brought  in  wounded  and  a  prisoner, 
xle  heard  the  few  courteous  words  which  passed  between 
the  two  leaders,  and  saw  him  taken  to  the  rear  under  a 
guard  ;  then  a  message  was  given  him  to  deliver,  and  it 
was  an  hour  before  he  returned.  He  found  standing  by 


LUNDYS    LANE.  297 

General  Brown's  side,  when  he  came  back,  a  stern,  sol- 
dierly man,  whom  he  recognized  as  the  colonel  of  the  2ist 
Regulars,  and  heard  General  Brown  say: 

"  Miller,  can  you  take  that  battery  ?  " 

"I'll  try,"  was  the  calm,  quiet  answer. 

"  Do  so,  then  ;  I  must  have  it  at  any  price.  Mason, 
head  that  column  with  Colonel  Miller.  Forward,  sir,"  and 
the  General's  voice  shook  a  little  as  he  said  the  last  word, 
"  farewell." 

.  The  moon  at  this  instant  broke  out  through  the  floating 
clouds,  and  tipped  each  bayonet  and  accoutrement  of  the 
soldier  with  silver,  as  the  2ist  Regulars,  now  reduced  to 
barely  three  hundred,  silently,  elbow  to  elbow,  as  if  on 
parade,  advanced  up  the  sloping  meadow,  which  was 
crowned  by  that  terrible  battery. 

They  had  advanced  to  within  fifty  yards,  when  Colonel 
Miller's  voice  rang  out  clear  and  full :  "  Charge  bayonets  ! 
Forward,  double  quick  !  "  The  rest  of  the  words  were  lost 
in  the  roar  of  the  cannon,  as  Edward,  throwing  his  arms 
wildly  over  his  head,  horse  and  man  went  blindly  down. 
The  men  swept  over  him  at  the  run.  The  moon  shone  out 
clear  and  cold,  as  his  face  to  heaven,  a  smile  on  his  lips, 
his  body  almost  torn  to  pieces  with  grape-shot,  with  no 
struggle,  no  motion,  lay  Edward  Mason.  The  General's 
words  had  been  prophetic — "  Farewell !  " 

With  the  remainder  of  this  bloody  fight  this  story  has 
nothing  to  do.  Step  by  step  the  ground  was  won  after  the 
capture  of  the  battery,  only  to  be  again  retaken  and  to  be 
again  lost.  General  Brown  was  carried  off,  severely,  and, 
as  was  then  thought,  mortally  wounded. 

The  American  army  fell  back  at  last,  leaving  the  bat- 


298  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

tery  on  the  hill,  keeping  silent  watch  over  the  dying  and 
the  dead. 

It  was  towards  morning,  that  a  man  could  now  be  seen, 
his  clothes  drenched  with  the  night's  dew,  his  face  anxious 
and  disturbed,  moving  rapidly  from  body  to  body,  only 
stopping  to  bend  over  and  examine  carefully  the  face  of 
each.  It  was  our  friend  Eph.,  who,  in  the  position  of  sut- 
ler which  he  had  obtained,  had  been  kept  far  in  the  rear  of 
the  army.  The  story  which  had  spread  among  the  staff 
of  Edward's  death  had  driven  him  almost  frantic,  and  he 
was  now  seeking,  with  the  fidelity  of  his  nature,  to  find  the 
playmate  of  his  boyhood. 

"Felt  this  morning,"  he  muttered  to  himself,  "when  I 
saw  him  get  on  that  brute,  he'd  be  in  bad  luck.  Never 
knew  a  wall-eyed  horse  that  didn't  bring  bad  luck.  Broke 
his  leg,  I  reckon.  P'rhaps  its  only  a  sprain.  How  in 
thunder  am  I  to  get  him  back  to  camp  ?  Them  fools  are 
only  thinking  of  themselves  ;  and  now  the  General's  down, 
there  is  no  use  in  going  to  head-quarters.  The  new  general 

would  see  me  d d  first  before  he  gave  me  a  detail,  and 

then  he  wouldn't.  Thar  he  is  now,  by " 

As  he  uttered  this  last  exclamation  he  rushed  forward, 
stumbling  over  the  dead  body  of  the  brute  he  had  been 
anathematizing,  which  lay  half-hidden  in  the  long  grass. 
Yes,  he  had  found  Edward,  and,  with  a  half-hysterical 
laugh,  he  knelt  by  his  side. 

"  I  am  here,  Ned ;  ye  didn't  think  Eph.  forget  you,  did 
ye  ?  Why  don't  you  answer  ?  Are  ye  faint  ?  " 

He  tried  to  tear  open  the  closely-buttoned  uniform  ;  his 
fingers  stuck  together  with  clotted  blood  as  he  held  them 
up  to  the  moonlight. 


LUNDYS    LANE.  299 

"  My  God  !  he  must  be  wounded !  He  can't  be  dead  ! 
Oh,  no,  no  !  Ned — dear  Ned — you  ain't  dead  ?  " 

With  hands  that  trembled  so  as  to  delay  him  by  their 
very  eagerness,  he  drew  a  small  bottle  from  his  pocket  and 
endeavored  to  pour  some  of  its  contents  down  his  friend's 
throat.  Even  in  this  action,  true  to  his  nature,  Eph.  could 
not  resist  the  half-serious,  half-comic  soliloquy  which  broke 
from  his  lips: 

"  'Tis  a  little  old  Jamaica  that  I  got  last  time  I  was  to 
hum.  There  an't  no  better  to  be  had  in  the  State.  Takes 
the  major  to  know  what  rum  is.  My  God  !  he  don't  hear 
me  !  He  is  dead  !  dead  !  dead  !  "  and  covering  his  face 
with  his  hands,  he  bent  his  body  almost  to  the  ground  and 
rocked  himself  to  and  fro  in  agony. 

Eph.  took  no  note  of  time.  He  knew  not  how  long  he 
cowered  thus  over  the  body  of  the  being  he  loved  best  in 
the  world.  He  could  hardly  be  said  to  think ;  at  intervals 
he  would  moan  out  the  words,  "  Dead !  dead !  and  I  not 
by  him  when  he  fit  the  fight ! " 

There  were  several  groups  moving  on  the  hillside,  some 
distance  from  where  Edward  lay.  The  tall  grass  shielded 
Eph.  in  his  crouching  posture  from  observation,  and  it  was 
not  until  he  actually  leaned  over  him  that  a  British  soldier 
saw  that  one  of  the  two  was  still  living.  The  fellow  had 
been  one  of  the  detail  sent  out  to  succor  the  wounded,  but 
bent  on  plunder,  had  separated  himself  from  his  compan- 
ions, and  was  now  furtively  robbing  indiscriminately  friend 
and  foe. 

After  casting  a  hurried  look  around  him,  the  soldier 
bent  over  Edward  and  felt  for  the  valuables  which  might 
be  on  his  person.  The  slight  noise  he  made  caused  Eph. 


3OO  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

to  look  up ;  his  quick  mind  took  in  the  situation  at  a 
glance.  With  a  bound  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and  con- 
fronted the  startled  ruffian. 

True  to  his  training  and  the  bull-dog  courage  of  his 
race,  the  man,  with  an  oath,  brought  the  musket  he  carried 
to  the  charge,  and  the  point  of  the  bayonet  glistened  within 
a  foot  of  Eph.'s  breast 

The  transitions  of  the  passions  in  the  human  heart  are 
instantaneous.  Before  him  stood  one  of  those  who  had 
killed  the  object  of  his  adoration  ;  Eph.'s  intense  love  be- 
came at  once  blind  rage. 

"  Hellhound !  "  he  cried,  "  you'd  rob  the  man  you've 
murdered,  would  ye  ? " 

Had  the  soldier  dared  to  fire,  Eph.'s  words  would  have 
been  his  last ;  but  not  a  hundred  yards  off  he  saw,  coming 
through  the  faint  moonlight,  his  officer  and  the  party  he 
had  deserted  on  his  plundering  trip.  This  hesitation  gave 
Eph.  time  to  seize  a  musket,  dropped  by  some  wounded 
man,  and  similarly  armed,  the  two  savage  men  confronted 
each  other ;  between  lay  the  dead  body  of  Edward.  With 
a  half-stifled  yell  and  curse,  the  two  threw  themselves 
forward,  their  weapons  clashing  and  sparkling  in  the 
struggle. 

The  ringing  of  the  steel  had  aroused  the  party,  now  very 
close,  and  with  a  loud  cry  of  "  Hold  !  wretches,  murderers, 
hold ! "  the  officer  in  command  rushed  forward.  It  was 
too  late.  Without  an  effort  at  defence,  the  two  men,  as  if 
by  mutual  consent,  disengaged  their  arms,  and  the  next 
instant  they  were  buried  to  the  hilt  in  each  other's  body. 
For  an  instant  they  stood  thus,  each  supporting  the  other ; 
then  the  knees  of  the  English  soldier  gave  way,  every 


LUNDYS    LANE.  30 1 

muscle  relaxing,  and,  without  a  sound,  the  body  slowly 
sank  to  the  ground. 

Eph.  had  still  strength  to  tear  himself  from  the  weapon 
and  turn  staggeringly  towards  the  head  of  his  friend.  At 
this  moment  the  British  officer  was  by  his  side,  snatching 
from  the  hand  of  the  horrified  sergeant  who  accompanied 
him  the  lantern  he  carried,  Harcourt,  for  it  was  he,  caught 
at  Eph.'s  arm  to  give  him  support.  As  he  did  so,  the 
light  fell  full  on  the  upturned  face  at  his  feet.  He  recog- 
nized him  in  an  instant.  Forgetting  every  thing,  Harcourt 
threw  himself  on  his  knees,  and  tremblingly  laid  his  hand 
on  the  cold  forehead. 

"  Oh,  God !  it  can't  be  so.  Mason,  my  friend,  my  bro- 
ther, my  saviour !  oh,  no,  it  cannot  be  so  !  " 

Eph  had  slowly  sunk  to  the  ground,  but  had  still  force 
sufficient  to  drag  himself  to  Harcourt's  side, 

"  He  breathes,  Cap.  I  say,  Cap,  he — breathes — don't 
he?" 

The  gurgling  blood  burst  from  nose  and  mouth,  as 
with  a  convulsive  effort  to  tear  off  the  cravat  which  choked 
his  breathing,  Ephraim  Dodge  lay  dead. 

The  strong  soldiers  drew  their  breath  like  men  in  pain. 
Harcourt  had  sprung  to  his  feet ;  and  with  clasped  hands 
stood  looking  down  on  the  bloody  scene. 

The  sergeant  picked  up  the  lantern  his  superior  had 
dropped,  and  turning  over  the  body  of  the  soldier  held  the 
light  to  his' face. 

"Phil  Blake,  as  I  thought,"  the  man  muttered.  "  He 
has  saved  himself  from  the  triangles." 

"  He  died  game,  any  how,"  said  one  of  the  others,  who 
had  overheard  the  remark. 


3<D2  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

Harcourt  turned,  and,  followed  by  the  party,  walked 
silently  and  slowly  towards  the  British  lines. 

The  next  day  a  flag  of  truce  brought  into  the  lines  the 
two  bodies  of  Edward  Mason  and  Ephraim  Dodge. 

Some  kind  hand  had  covered  the  torn  breast  of  Ed- 
ward with  a  rude  chaplet  of  the  sweetbriar  rose.  He  sleeps 
peacefully  on  the  bloody  Canadian  soil. 


CONCLUSION. 


"  The  love  where  death  has  set  its  seal, 
Nor  age  can  quell,  nor  rival  steal, 
Nor  falsehood  disavow." 

BYRON. 

LMOST  the  first  non-official  act  of  General 
Brown,  when  he  was  sufficiently  recovered  to 
put  pen  to  paper,  was  the  letter  in  which  he 
broke  the  sad  news  of  Edward's  death  to  Sibyl. 
What  passed  in  the  interview  between  father  and  daughter 
when  the  letter  came,  was  never  known.  Sibyl  would  sit 
for  hours  on  a  low  seat  by  her  father's  chair,  her  head 
resting  on  its  arm,  her  hand  closely  locked  in  his,  calm, 
silent,  motionless. 

Poor  Mrs.  Spencer's  grief  was  violent  and  loud  spoken. 
She  found  a  friend,  where  she  did  not  expect  it,  and  that 
was  in  Lucy.  The  latter  had,  on  the  news  of  the  crushing 
blow  which  had  fallen  on  the  family  who  had  protected 
her  in  her  sorrow,  postponed  her  departure.  Many  letters 
had  passed  between  Lucy  and  Harcourt.  Noble,  manly  let- 
ters, which  Lucy  proudly  read,  as  coming  from  her  lover. 
He  had  retired  from  the  army  after  the  battle  of  Lundy's 
Lane,  and  now  only  waited  the  declaration  of  peace,  which 

(3°3) 


304  SIBYL   SPENCER. 

all  knew  was  close  at  hand,  to  come  to  D and   claim 

his  early  love. 

The  charge  of  the  2ist  Reg.  had  been  widely  spread 
abroad,  and  none  did  more  honor  to  the  desperate  courage 
of  men  and  officers  than  the  gallant  enemy,  whom  for  the 
time  being,  had  been  forced  from  their  vantage  ground. 

Edward  had  been  seen  and  afterwards  recognized  by 
several  officers,  whose  acquaintance  he  had  made  while 
prisoner  at  Quebec. 

Their  stories  had  been  gathered,  and  transmitted  by 
Harcourt  to  the  family  at  D . 

Sibyl  never  spoke  when  his  name  was  mentioned  ;  she 
eagerly  read  and  re-read  these  brief  accounts,  but  her  si- 
lence was  impenetrable. 

"  I  do  wish,"  said  Mrs.  Spencer  to  Mr.  Hamilton,  one 
morning,  "  that  our  Sibyl  would  act  as  any  other  girl  of 
her  age  would  do.  There  she  sits,  just  like  '  Niobe,'  the 
doctor  was  telling  us  about  the  other  night.  She  wont 
talk,  she  don't  cry.  I  tell  you  it  is  clear  against  nature — 
it  is  not  what  the  Holy  Book  says  she  ought  to  do." 

"  My  dear  Mrs.  Spencer,  how  can  you  say  so  ?  To 
me,  Sibyl  never  was  so  lovely  as  in  her  grief.  She  never 
obtrudes  her  woe.  She  ministers,  as  she  always  did,  to 
the  happiness  of  others.  Self-devoted,  self-forgetful,  and 
oh,  so  lovely !  " 

"  That's  all  very  well  for  you,  now.  That  is  just  the 
way  the  Doctor  always  does.  But  don't  the  Bible  say, 
that  Rachael  wept  for  her  children  and  would  not  be  com- 
forted because  they  were  not  ?  Ah  me,  they  were  both 
children  of  mine.  I  loved  one  almost  as  much  as  the 
other,  and  if  I  did  think  sometimes,  our  Sibyl  might  have 


CONCLUSION.  305 

made  a  better  match,  it  was  not  that  I  did  not  love  Ed- 
ward as  a  son." 

Mr.  Hamilton's  face  grew  very  white  and  he  bit  his 
lips,  as  he  walked  to  the  window  to  hide  the  emotion  the 
simple-hearted  woman  had  called  up.  As  he  stood  look- 
ing into  the  deserted  street,  he  was  struck  by  the  appear- 
ance of  a  stranger,  who,  after  a  moment's  hesitation,  as- 
cended the  stoop,  and  knocked  at  the  front  door. 

The  negro  boy,  Sam,  soon  entered  and  announced, 
"  A  strange  gentleman  to  see  Mr.  Hamilton." 

"  I  trust,  Sam,  you  showed  the  gentleman  into  the 
parlor,  though  there  is  no  fire  there  after  all.  Just  ask 
him  to  step  in  here,  Sam.  I  will  slip  out,  and  you  can 
bring  in  some  cake  and  wine.  I  wouldn't  have  a  stranger 
and  a  friend  of  Mr.  Hamilton  think  we  had  forgotten  our 
manners,  even  if  we  have  been  smitten  by  the  hand  of 
the  Lord." 

Mr.  Hamilton  knew  how  hopeless  was  any  attempt  at 
interference  in  Mrs.  Spencer's  hospitable  intentions.  She 
had  scarcely  left  the  room,  when  Sam  introduced  the 
stranger,  a  tall,  handsome  young  man,  with  the  bearing 
and  carriage  of  a  gentleman. 

"  Mr.  Hamilton,"  he  said,  slightly  bowing,  "  our  cor- 
respondence has  made  you  acquainted  with  the  name  of 
Harcourt." 

"  Certainly,  most  certainly  ;  but  is  not  your  visit  dan- 
gerous to  you,"  said  the  other  ;  "  you,  an  Englishman,  and 
we  at  war  ?  " 

"  Surely,"  said  the  other,  "  the  news  of  peace  has 
reached  even  this  secluded  village.  Such  is  the  fact,  how- 
ever. I  landed  in  New  York  yesterday,  in  the  first  vessel 

20 


306  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

from  Halifax,  and  left  it  ablaze  with  bonfires  at  the  glad 
news." 

"  You  bring  glad  tidings  to  a  sad  family,  sir,"  said  Mr. 
Hamilton,  extending  his  hand.  "  But  you  are  welcome,  as 
the  friend  of  one  none  knew  but  to  love  and  praise." 

"  I  owed  him  more,  sir,  than  a  man  cares  to  owe  to 
another — life,  honor,  and  liberty.  I  know  not  what  strange 
presentiment  induced  me  on  that  fatal  night  to  take  with 
me  a  detail,  to  search  the  battle-field.  I  can  only  say  it 
was  a  foreboding  of  evil,  the  actuality  of  which  has  clouded 
my  life  for  ever." 

"  You  are  young  in  years,  my  friend,  to  say  such  sad 
words.  To  you  life  is  yet  full  of  ventures,  of  happiness. 
Political  life,  military  renown,  woman's  love — all  are  yours, 
or  may  be  yours.  If  I  mistake  not,  I  address  myself  to 
the  Earl  of " 

Harcourt  bowed. 

"If  I  may  venture  to  ask  the  favor,  however,  I  prefer  to 
be  known,  the  short  time  I  am  in  this  village,  as  plain 
Charles  Harcourt.  Mr.  Hamilton  " — a  slight  color  crossed 
his  cheek  as  he  spoke- — "there  is  in  the  house  a  lady — may 
I  ask,  will  your  permit — am  I  at  liberty " 

"  Sir,  you  confer  a  favor  in  ministering  to  the  pleasure 
of  any  guest  in  this  house.  I  will  see  that  Mrs.  Quincey  is 
informed  of  your  arrival.  There  is  one  thing,  however, 
which  you  will  forgive  me  for  suggesting:  namely,  while 
you  are  in  this  village,  you  remain  a  close  prisoner  in  this 
house." 

Harcourt  was  about  speaking,  but  the  other  went  on 
without  noticing  him. 

"  I  am  right,  I  must  insist  on  this.     To  this  family  you 


CONCLUSION.  307 

have  endeared  yourself  by  acts  of  kindness  never  to  be  for- 
gotten. To  the  outside  world  you  will  for  long  years  to 
come  be  an  Englishman  and  an  enemy." 

"  But,  surely,  Mr.  Hamilton,  a  war  which  was  forced 
on  us.  Reprisals  for  acts  of  which  you  were  the  first  to 
set  an  example." 

"  All  of  which  you  may  calmly  say  to  me,  and  I  will 
admit  its  force.  But,  Mr.  Harcourt,  England  is  victor. 
There  is  not  a  hearth-stone  which  is  not  desolate — there  is 
not  a  church-yard  which  is  not  green  with  our  best  and 
dearest.  You  would  only  subject  yourself  to  insult,  and 
your  friends,  and  you  have  friends,  to  pain  and  annoyance. 
You  will  confer  this  favor  ?  " 

While  this  conversation  was  going  on,  Mrs.  Spencer 
had  entered  Lucy's  room,  whom  she  found  alone. 

"  My  dear,"  said  the  old  lady,  seating  herself  rather 
out  of  breath,  and  bringing  out  her  words  spasmodically — 
"  My  dear,  there  is  now  down  stairs  a  very  handsome 
young  man.  I  guess  you  have  something  to  do  with  his 
visit.  Ah  me,  I  do  not  begrudge  you  the  happiness,  but 
why  was  not  Sibyl  happy,  too  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Mrs.  Spencer  !  oh,  my  dear,  dear  Mrs.  Spencer ! 
Can  it  be  Charles  ? " 

"  I  do  not  know,"  said  the  old  lady.  "  I  know  it  is 
not  one  of  the  village  folk,  nor  is  he  an  American.  Just 
you  run  down.  If  you  do  not  know  him  you  have  only  to 
curtsey  and  come  away.  You  are  at  home  here." 

"  But  I  am  such  a  fright.  Look  how  pale  I  am,  and 
with  this  dress  on.  He  always  hated  a  black  dress." 

"  All  the  better.  Don't  you  fret  about  your  looks. 
Men  never  know  what  a  woman  has  on,  if  she  don't  keep 


308  SIBYL    SPENCER. 

them  waiting.  I  do  not  believe  the  Doctor,  now,  could  tell 
you  if  I  had  more  than  one  dress  in  the  world.  There," 
Mrs.  Spencer  had  been  fussing  with  Lucy's  costume  as  she 
spoke,  and  now  gently  pushed  her  to  the  door,  "  I  do  hope 
you  will  be  happy,  my  poor  child  I  do ;  I  have  begun  to 
love  you  like  my  own  daughter." 

As  Mr.  Hamilton  opened  the  door  to  call  Mrs.  Quin- 
cey,  he  found  her  standing  almost  on  its  threshold.  A 
bright  light  broke  over  Harcourt's  face  as,  holding  out 
both  hands,  he  could  only  exclaim  : 

"Lucy!" 

Did  she  hesitate  ?  There  was  but  a  moment's  pause. 
Then,  with  a  glad  cry  of  "  Charles,"  she  sprang  forward. 

Mr.  Hamilton  quietly  drew  the  door  shut  behind  him, 
and  left  the  lovers  to  themselves. 

Some  hours  afterwards,  the  door  was  gently  opened, 
and  Sibyl  entered. 

"  I  need  no  introduction,"  she  said,  "  to  his  friend — 
you  saw  him  last.  It  was  your  hand  which  placed  flowers 
on  his  breast.  If  for  nothing  else,  God  bless  you  for  that 
kind  deed ! " 

Harcourt's  manly  nature  gave  way,  and  the  tears  ran 
down  his  cheeks,  as  he  took  the  hand  of  the  broken-hearted 
girl  in  his  own. 

"  My  own  intense  happiness  has  made  me  selfish. 
Sibyl — sister — let  me  be  unto  you  all  the  word  implies. 
Come  with  us — come  with  Lucy  and  me  to  England.  Let 
a  change  of  scene  make  you  forget — a  heart  like  yours 
never  forgets — but " 

"  Hush !  oh,  hush  !  I  have  duties  here,  which  cannot 
be  left — my  father,  my  mother."  She  placed  her  hand  on 


CONCLUSION.  3°9 

her  heart  as  she  spoke.     "  It  will  be  but  for  a  few  short 
months,  perhaps  weeks." 

She  laid  her  hand  gently  on  his  arm  : 

"  I  hear  a  voice  you  cannot  hear, 

Which  says  I  must  not  stay 
I  see  a  hand  you  cannot  see, 

Which  beckons  me  away." 


THE  END. 


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PUTNAM'S  ART  HANDBOOKS.    Edited  by  SUSAN  N.  CARTER, 

Superintendent  of  the  Woman's  Art  School,  Cooper  Union. 

I.  SKETCHING  FROM  NATURE.     By  THOMAS  ROWBOTHAM. 
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G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS,  NEW  YORZ. 


PUBLICATIONS  OF  G.  P.  PUTNAM'S  SONS. 

FOR  LIBRARIES,  TEA  CHERS,STUDENTS,  AND  FAMIL  Y  USE. 

COMPREHENSIVE,  COMPACT  AND  CONVENIENT 

FOR  REFERENCE. 

THE  HOME  ENCYCLOPAEDIA 

OF   BIOGRAPHY,    HISTORY,    LITERATURE, 
CHRONOLOGY  AND  ESSENTIAL  FACTS. 

COMPRISED    IN    TWO     PARTS. 


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PART      I 

THE    WORLD'S    PROGRESS 

A  Dictionary  of  Dates,  being  a  Chronological  and  Alphabetical  Record 
of  all  Essential  facts  in  the  Progress  of  Society,  from  the  beginning  of 
History  to  August,  1877.  With  Chronological  Tables,  Biographical  Index, 
and  a  Chart  of  History, 

By     G.      P.      PUTNAM,    A.M. 

Revised  and  continued  by  F.  B.  PERKINS.     In  one  handsome  octavo  volume 
of  1,000  pages,  cloth  extra,  $4.50  ;   half  morocco,  $7.00. 

CONTENTS: 


THE  WORLD'S  PROGRESS,  1867 — 1877. 
THE  SAME  1851—1867. 

THE  SAME  FROM  THE  BEGINNING  OF  HIS- 
TORY TO  1851. 

UNITED  STATES  TREASURY  STATISTICS. 
LITERARY  CHRONOLOGY,  ARRANGED  IN  TA- 
BLES:   HEBREW,   GREEK,  LATIN  AND 
ITALIAN,  BRITISH,  GERMAN,   FRENCH, 
SPANISH    AND    PORTUGUESE,    DUTCH, 


ARABIAN,     PERSIAN    AND    TURKISH, 

AMERICAN. 
HEATHEN  DEITIES  AND  HEROES  AND  HER 

OINES  OF  ANTIQUITY. 
TABULAR  VIEWS  OF  UNIVERSAL  HISTORY. 
BIOGRAPHICAL  INDEX,  GENERAL. 

THE  SAME  OF  ARTISTS. 

SCHOOLS  OF  PAINTING  IN  CHRONOLOGICAL 

TABLES. 


SWEDISH,  DANISH,    POLISH.    RUSSIAN, 

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"  The  best  manual  of  the  kind  in  the  English  language." — Boston  Courier. 

"  Well-nigh  indispensable  to  a  very  large  portion  of  the  community." — N.Y.  Cour- 
ier &*  Enquirer. 

PART    I  I 

THE   CYCLOPEDIA  OF  BIOGRAPHY 

A    RECORD    OF    THE    LIVES    OF    EMINENT    MEN 
By     PARKE     GODWIN. 

New  edition,  revised  and  continued  to  August,  1877.      Octavo,   containing 
1200  pages,  cloth,  $5.00  ;   half  morocco,  $7.50. 

The  Publishers  claim  for  this  work  that  it  presents  an  admirable  combination  of 
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selves to  the  public  favor,  as  well  for  the  fulness  of  their  lists  of  essential  names,  as  for 
the  accuracy  of  the  material  given.  The  present  edition  will,  it  is  believed,  be  found  still 
more  satisfactory  as  to  these  points,  and  possesses  for  American  readers  the  special 
arlvantnpre  over  similar  linylish  works,  in  ilie  lull  proportion  of  space  given  to  emi- 
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BOOKS  BY  THE  AUTHOR  OF  "HELEN'S  BABIES." 


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±OOO. 

THE     SCRIPTURE     CLUB     OF     VALLEY     REST;     or, 

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32:n_a_    ±OOO_ 

OTHER    PEOPLE'S    CHILDREN       The    Sequel    to    "Helen's 
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WASHINGTON  IRVING'S  WORKS. 


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